


Trapped

by bethevibeyouseek



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-06-10 05:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15284481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethevibeyouseek/pseuds/bethevibeyouseek
Summary: When Franky pleads guilty to assault, she is sentenced to serve her time at a drug/alcohol rehabilitation center under the direction of renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Bridget Westfall and her dedicated staff of nurses and officers. Her ward is thrown upside down with the arrival of their newest, and most reluctant patient.





	1. Franky Doyle

Morning shifts were always the hardest for Dr. Bridget Westfall. She preferred the comfort of her bed and late morning wake up calls. It had taken the promise of a large green tea from the cafe downstairs to rose her from bed that day. While it was challenging, the reward was greeting the patients on her floor warmly as they started their days. Bridget had been the chief psychiatric doctor on Melbourne’s only correctional and rehabilitation facility for women with drug and alcohol addiction. The doctor had fought hard to research and build her program from the group up. Parolees in the program had proven to be less likely to relapse or be convicted again. What had started as a small five room hallway, had continually grown to hold 50 women at capacity. They had extended to several blocks of rooms each assigned with their own counseling professional.  
  
During morning routine, her blue heels clicked evenly as she walked the halls towards the nurse’s station where Vera Bennett, a charge nurse, was frantically flipping through the charts to assign nurses to patients.  
  
“Good morning, Vera,” Bridget smiled at the petite brunette when she finally looked up from her work.  
  
“Hello, Doctor Westfall.”  
  
“Vera, please call me Bridget. No need for formalities.” She reminded delicately. Titles were not necessary on their floor. Even the patients referred to her as Bridget.  
  
“Right, Bridget. Good morning.”  
  
“Everything alright?” Bridget could feel the frantic energy the nurse was exuding.  
  
“Well…Not exactly. Linda Miles has called in sick, so I’m taking on her rooms.”  
  
“Can I help? I haven’t got any appointments until nine anyhow,” the blonde offered to  
  
alleviate some of her worry.  
  
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she shook her head.  
  
“It’s no trouble. It gives me an opportunity to see some of the women outside of my care.”  
  
“Thank you so much, Doc-Bridget,” she blushed as she quickly corrected herself. Bridget took the stack of charts from the countertop.  
  
“Let me know if there’s anything else you need help with,” Bridget smiled brightly before turning in the direction of H block’s rooms. She hadn’t made it all but two steps forward when she ran into one of her psychologists.  
  
“Bridget! I was hoping I’d catch you.” The curly haired blonde signed with relief.  
  
“All good, Erica?” She asked noticing the hesitant look on her colleagues face.  
  
“My new patient, Francesca Doyle. She was a transfer from Sonia.”  
  
“Yes, I think I remember the file.”  
  
“I would like to refer her to you or Will.” Bridget was surprised by the woman’s words. Erica had never asked to transfer a client before.  
  
“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”  
  
“Exactly the opposite. She won’t speak to me.”  
  
“At all?” Bridget asked out of curiosity.  
  
“Yesterday was our third silent session. She doesn’t say anything at all, and when does it’s to try and pry into my personal life. She just counts the minutes down and when she hears the knock at the door, you she see how fast she moves to get out of there.”  
  
“Maybe she needs some extra time to settle in. Let’s give her another chance next week and see if she’s made any progress.” Bridget could tell that Erica was not exactly thrilled to be told no from her. She nodded with her lips pursed into a thin smile. She then left to lick her wounds in the privacy of her own office.  
  
Bridget looked down at the first chart on her pile, only to discover the name at the top right.

  


Franky Doyle. 

“Let’s see what’s going on in that mind of yours, Franky Doyle.” Bridget smiled as she turned to knock on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good morning, Franky,” Bridget smiled as she opened the door to the patients small room. It wasn’t often that patients had single rooms, but because of the violent nature of the women’s crime, the precaution was necessary until they determined if she could be moved to the main ward.  
  
The psychiatrist wasn’t exactly sure what she had pictured the 24 year old women to look like, but it wasn’t Franky Doyle. She was tall and slender, a thin layer of muscle was hidden underneath her olive skin. After seeing the pictures of the crime, Bridget had a difficult time believing that she had actually been able to do it. She was gorgeous, with angular facial features that were offset by her large green eyes. Her long hair was tamed back into a low ponytail at the nap of her neck. She sat reading on her bed, already dressed in the teal track pants and hoodie. If Bridget didn’t know better, she’d say the woman was calm.  
  
“My name is Bridget, are you ready to get started with your day?”  
  
“Where’s Smiles?” the brunette asked plainly, unmoving from her relaxed position on her  
  
bed.  
  
“Out sick today, I’m afraid. Is it alright if I escort you to breakfast instead?”  
  
“Do I really have a choice?”  
  
“There’s always a choice. You could walk with me to breakfast and head to group or you could stay here and finish your book,”  
  
“I’m good, thanks.” Franky said, turning her attention back to the page she was on.  
  
“Must be a good book if you’re skipping meals.” Franky turned the page, ignoring the woman in front of her. “From what I hear you’ve been skipping quite a few lately.”  
  
“I’m devastated,” she muttered sarcastically.  
  
“There’s vegetarian options too, you know.” The green eyes perked up to her.  
  
“So?”  
  
“You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you? That’s why you’re skipping meals?”  
  
“Why do you give a fuck about what I put in my mouth?” the corner of her lips curled upwards in what Bridget was she was the most smarmy grin she had ever seen. She was playing games.  
  
“There’s fruit, cereal, eggs, you name it. I’m a vegetarian too, I care greatly about what goes in my mouth.”  
  
“Is that right?” her eyebrows raised, the book falling open against her chest. She could seriously pass the time with the blonde. She was so much more fun that Erica fucking Pearson. At least Bridget fought back.  
  
“It is. Anyway, I won’t keep you. If you change your mind, just hit the call button. Happy reading, Franky.” Bridget wrinkled her nose as she turned to exit the room, shutting the door. Before it was properly latched, Franky had slid out of bed, ditching her book, and held the door open. Bridget smiled at her change of heart. Franky, annoyed at Bridget’s grin, held her hand out impatiently.  
  
“Let’s go Gidget,”  
  
“It’s Bridget,”  
  
“I like Gidget better.”  
  
“Well, alright then.”


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks later, Bridget had noticed the reluctant inmate soften slightly. Although she would not let herself smile fully, her lips did occasionally turn upwards in an almost grin. Eventually she was moved to a shared room when Bridget had determined that she wouldn’t endanger others. She had a feeling Franky Doyle was also the type to release spiders. How could such a gentle soul, a vegetarian for Christ’s sake, nearly kill a man with just her fists? She was clever, but not diabolical.  
  
Bridget’s ponytails was far perkier than she was as she made afternoon rounds on the floor at the start of her shift. Most patients had rotated through lunch and were either lounging in the den or in sessions. Noticeably missing from her usual back table was the brunette. Bridget had grown accustomed to their usual mealtime exchanges.” 

“What’s for breakfast?”/“Eggs Benedict.”/“Oh?”/“Yeah fuckin' right. Those eggs haven’t seen a pan in hours.”/“Would you like some fresh eggs, Franky?”

“Vera? Has anyone seen Doyle? She’s usually here by now.” Bridget did her best to hide the lining of concern for the patient. She hoped she hadn’t wandered off again.  
  
“Yes, Dr. Westfall, Linda has been trying to get her out of bed all day with no luck. Doyle’s been asleep for most of it. Would you like me to have someone take her to medical?”  
  
“No, I’ll go check on her now.” 

It was unusual for the young woman to require anyone to wake her up in the morning. She was normally up and dressed before she was unlocked from her room in the morning. Bridget peered through the small window noticing Franky’s blanket-clad form still curled facing the wall. Bridget knocked softly before she entered the room quietly.  
  
“Franky?”. Franky still didn’t need to move. “Ms. Miles said you’re not feeling well; you missed breakfast...and lunch.” 

Silence. 

“Franky. Are you feeling ill?” Bridget reached over to feel the women’s forehead. 

Franky inhaled sharply as she woke at the intruding contact, before bringing her hands up to cover her face defensively. The psychiatrist pulled her hands away, as if she had been burned by a flame. 

“Franky it’s Dr. Westfall. I was worried about you, so I was going to check your temperature. Is that alright?” Franky didn’t respond, she instead stared blankly at the woman in front of her. Bridget asked the question again. Franky closed her eyes and lay her head back against her waiting pillow. Her forehead wasn’t warm, but it appeared by her dampened hair, she had perhaps had a fever at some point. 

“Franky? Can you hear me?” She spoke louder. Bridget did her best to hide the concern in her strong voice. Franky’s face contorted in pain. Panic rose in Franky’s chest as she finally surfaced into consciousness. She’d been floating in and out for what seemed like days. Instantly she was hit with a wave of crushing pain in her head. The woman at her bedside tried to check her eyes with a small flashlight. Franky groaned as a wave of nausea hit her like a brick wall.  
  
“We’re going to get you to medical and get you checked out alright?” A comforting hand on her clammy back caused her to tense up. Had Bridget noticed?  
  
“It’s going to be okay, Franky,” Bridget’s words were the last thing she head before falling back under the surface of the water. 

Dr. Joan Ferguson was considered one of the best doctors at Sacred Heart hospital, but she was also one of the coldest women that Bridget had ever met. She towered over the petite blonde, and she also didn’t consider Bridget’s doctorate a “real” one. Differences aside, she was the one who was assigned to Franky. Bridget sat anxiously outside the room as they worked to figure out what on earth had happened to the young patient. She’d been on the unit for months, detox had already taken place before she was even admitted into the program. She’d expected these types of reactions at the beginning of treatment, but not after this long. She couldn’t be using, could she? She was clever, no doubt she could charm the pants off just about any guard in the place.  
  
“Her system tested positive for rohypnol,”  
  
“Rophypnol?” Bridget repeated absolutely shocked by Dr. Ferguson’s findings. She  
  
reached her hand out for the chart. “May I?” After a moment's hesitation, the hard woman passed it over. One of the most unsettling things about the medical doctor, was her affinity to wear sterile gloves at almost all times on the floor. And she most certainly didn’t shake hands.  
  
“I will keep her overnight for observation to insure her pain subsides.”  
  
“Thank you, Dr. Ferguson.”  
  
“I will call a guard.”  
  
“That isn’t necessary,” Bridget shook her head.  
  
“It is protocol for convicted prisoners to have a guard with them at all times out of the ward.”  
  
“Franky is a patient, not a prisoner. I will stay with her.”  
  
“Suit yourself.” The tall figure disappeared down the hallway, leaving Bridget to sit watch over her. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn she small the faintest smile on the doctor’s face as she left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sexual assault/non-con

Bridget sat in the stiff armchair beside Franky long after her shift had ended. She could have called for someone from the floor to relieve her so she could retreat home, but she couldn’t stand the thought of Franky waking up to the pinched face of Linda Miles. So she stayed. Her eyes were closed and her face had relaxed significantly since Bridget had seen her hours ago. Bridget noticed the rise and fall of her even breaths. She looked peaceful. The blonde couldn’t remember seeing her looking so… innocent.  
Finally, Franky’s eyes blinked back to life, the emerald orbs flitted over her surroundings as she tried to lift her arms to her head. The pounding had dulled to an ache, but it was still painful. Her hands were thwarted by the restraints on her wrists. ‘A necessary precaution’, Joan had stated. A small noise of fear escaped her throat as she panicked pulling at the bindings harder trying to escape.  
  
“Hey, Franky it’s Bridget. You’re in the hospital unit. You’re going to be alright.” She brushed her hand over the woman’s forearm trying to calm her down. The once rythmic rise and fall of her chest was quickened with fear. She tried once more to free her hands to no avail. Bridget took a chance and undid the velcro on the side closest to her, then leaned over  
  
her blanket clad form to undo the other. She calmed instantly.  
  
“Thank you,” Franky rasped rubbing her wrists. The cuffs had been tight enough to leave a small red line around them like bracelets. She attempted to sit up, only to be reminded of the dull ache in her head. Bridget gently pushed her shoulder to lie back against the pillows.  
  
“Take it easy,” She patted the woman’s shoulder, before pulling back. What was it that she could not seem to keep her hands from comforting the woman?  
  
“What happened?” The brunette asked searching her memory for any events in the last few days. She came up empty.  
  
“Ms. Miles was not able to wake you for breakfast and lunch. When I went to check on you around noon, you were disoriented and appeared to be in a lot of pain. You were moved to medical to make sure everything as was alright.”  
  
“Am I? Alright?”  
  
“Yes. Fluids and observation for the night, but then you can be moved back to our floor.”  
  
“What happened? I can’t remember anything…” Darkness was all she could see.  
  
“You’re bloodwork came back positive for rohypnol.”  
  
“Roofies?” Franky’s head shook, completely shocked. But was she acting? Bridget had spend the last few hours as Franky slept trying to make sense of everything. Relapses were common with substance abuse, but Franky seemed adamant that she was done with drugs. At least from what little information she did share in group. Dr. Westfall had a hard time grappling with the paperwork beside her. Unable to speak, she handed the proof over towards the brunette.  
  
She scanned the paperwork and her stomach dropped. How? Franky’s head shook back and forth as she read the doctor’s findings.  
  
“Relapses happen, we will get through this, Franky.” Unconditional positive regard. The young woman needed to know that she wasn’t going anywhere. Even if she felt hurt on the inside. Had she been wrong about her all along?  
  
“I didn’t do it.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“I would never. I swear to you.”  
  
“I’m not mad. It’s okay to talk freely. It will not change my or any staff’s opinion of you.”  
  
“I said I didn’t fucking do it!” Franky snapped, her light eyes giving way to a darkness the likes of which Bridget had never seen. Franky’s angular jaw clenched as she fought the anger boiling inside of her. She sounded furious at what the woman sitting beside her was suggesting. “That’s just it to you people. Once a junkie, always a junkie, huh doc?” Franky scoffed rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, effectively dismissing the conversation.  
  
“If you didn’t do it, then who did? You see the proof in front of you,” Bridget pressed further. Careful, Westfall.  
  
“I don’t know but it wasn’t fuckin’ me!” She snapped moving to get up from the bed. Fight of flight. She forgot about the pounding in her head, determined to get away from the prying questions of the woman beside her. She wasn’t as different as Franky had thought. Unable to lift her legs, she pulled the sheet up from her legs to discover her ankles to be restrained as well. A frustrated howl escaped her lungs and he reyes clouded over with angry tears. She would not let this woman see her cry. She squeezed her lids and willed herself to stop them from cascading down her face. Once she had managed to calm herself down, she blinked her eyes open to see the woman still sitting beside her. Franky quickly wiped her eyes and nose trying to mask her painful emotions from the prying blue eyes of the psychiatrist.  
  
“It wasn’t me. I promise you,” the brunette managed to crack out barely above a whisper. Unfiltered, unaltered, raw Franky. Bridget nondded, and didn’t push further, unable to as a sharp knock interrupted their conversation.  
  
“Francesca, you’re awake.” It didn’t take a genius to notice how quickly the patient changed when Dr. Ferguson entere her room. The doctor checked over Franky’s chart, making a few notes as she monitored the screen beside Franky’s bed. “Feeling better?”  
  
Franky nodded silently, her eyes cast down to the sheets covering her.  
  
“Good, well with all those fluids, I imagine you probably have to relieve yourself. Dr. Westfall, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out while I put a catheter in.” 

Franky’s entire form tensed, and the little remaining color drained from her face.  
  
“Please… I can go by myself,” the woman begged.  
  
“Nonsense, protocol says you are to remain restrained at all times,” her dark eyes glanced from Bridget to Franky’s unrestricted arms. Joan stepped forward to put her left delicate wrists back in its confines. Bridget could hear the sharp intake of breath from the bedridden woman beside her. She was afraid of this woman. “Dr. Westfall?” Joan attempted to dismiss her colleague once again as she nodded towards the open door.  
  
“Is that really necessary, Doctor? Perhaps she can be escorted to the restroom? She has been through quite a lot today. I’m sure you have other patients who are in more need of your care. I don’t mind helping.”  
  
“I do not tell you how to run your floor of crackpots. Now if I recall I am the one legally allowed to practice medicine, not mind shrinking,” Joan fired back.  
“If you insist.” Bridget spat through persed lips. When she moved to stand up Franky grabbed her wrist with her free right hand. Her eyes spoke the words she could not. Stay. Please don’t leave me alone with her. “I will be right outside,” she tried to reassure the young woman. Defeated, Franky nodded her head. Without a word, Joan put Franky’s other wrist back in its restraint. Fear ticked those beautiful green eyes.  
  
“She isn’t a danger.”  
  
“I think the man she almost killed would think otherwise.” 

Franky had sunk so far down into the mattress, trying to make herself invisible to no avail.  
  
“I will be right back, okay.” Bridget promised giving Franky’s arm a reassuring squeeze. 

And then Franky was alone with her. Again. 

“I see you’re making quite an impression on the staff, Francesca.” Her name sounded poisonous as it fell from the older woman’s curled lips. “I hope you haven’t forgotten our agreement.”  
  
Franky heard the familiar snap of those gloves even with her eyes closed. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Joan pulled the sheets from the woman’s body, letting the cool air of the room hit the her smooth, long legs. Her torso was covered in a thin hospital gown. For once, Franky missed the comfort of her teal uniform. Her legs squirmed, attempting to shield herself from the prying gaze of her abuser.

A gloved finger slid its way from her captured ankle, over her muscular calves and creamy inner thigh. Franky didn’t need to open her eyes to know that the doctor was smiling down at her.  
  


“Or have you not learned anything at all from your previous mistakes?” Her large hand, forcefully opened her thighs, granting her better access to her prey. Franky didn't pull against her bindings. She knew better than to give the Freak the satisfaction of watching her struggle.  
  
It would be over soon, Franky reminded herself. Enough abuse in her childhood had taught her mind how to retreat as far away as it could. She’d seen the clear seas of Greece and the ruins of the Aztec’s all from the sanctuary her brain had made for her long ago when she had first met Joan Ferguson.  
  
Roughly the doctor patted Franky’s cheek, forcing her to open her eyes.  
  
“You will take the blame for the drugs in your system.”  
  
“I knew it was you, you fucking Freak.” Franky spat in a whisper, not daring to alert anyone on the other side of the door. She knew better. “Or what? You’ll rape me again?” She dared.  
“Or you will never see her again. Understand?” Blackmail was a language Franky was fluent in. Joan waited for the confirmation from her pet, but when she didn’t respond quickly enough, she slid her hand back to grab a fistful of the young woman’s hair. She didn’t even give Joan the satisfying hiss that normally came when she inflicted physical pain upon her. She was going to have to try a little harder.  
  
Her other hand ghosted upwards over her exposed hips threatening to pounce.  
  
“You’re choice,” she slid her hand further down.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
"Alright, what?”  
  
“You win,” she submitted.  
  
"That wasn’t so hard, was it Francesca?” She relinquished her firm hold on the woman’s long locks, caressing her cheek almost kindly. With no difficulty, the Freak inserted a catheter and repositioned Franky’s gown and blankets. She then delivered one last squeeze against Franky’s thigh.  
  
"Keep your head down, and you will see your sister again.” Joan Ferguson threatened and exited the room, leaving the woman silently shaking in her wake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a psychologist or professional of any sort, so please note that before making any commentary in relation to these aspects. This work is fiction. I know the accuracy of some of the session/medical-ness is questionable, so please suspend your disbelief. (:

When Bridget returned to the room, Franky confessed to taking the drugs. Soon after with eyes cast downwards, she told the Doctor to leave and send a guard in her place. When Franky was returned to the unit, Bridget had agreed to release Erica from her sessions and take over for them for herself. Their first session was scheduled in a few days. Bridget hoped the time apart would allow her feelings to settle. She needed to make sure she wasn’t bringing any of her personal baggage into the treatment of the young woman. She needed her help, that much was clear. Years of mistrust had taken their toll, the psychologist wanted to be sure she was prepared to coax the feral animal out of her cage.  
  
The day of their first session, Franky arrived right after lunch, and flopped down in the waiting arm chair.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Bridget set a bottle of water on the table beside the younger woman. She’d probably still be replenishing her fluids.  
  
“Better now that I’m not cuffed to a bed,” Franky stated bluntly, letting her arms rest over her torso.  
  
“What would you like to talk about today?” Bridget asked placing her clipboard onto her desk behind them. Franky raised an eyebrow.  
  
“You want to talk about the drugs.”  
  
“What matters the most to me right now is making sure that you know that you can speak freely to me. If you would like to talk about what happened, we certainly can. It’s been a challenging week for you, with a relapse and all.”  
  
“I didn’t relapse,” the brunette fired back. “It was one time,” she shook her head, dismissing the Doctor’s professional opinion.  
  
“Believe it or not, I used to be a smoker. Took me years of trying to quit. I’d get stressed and want just one more. It wasn’t until I cut myself off completely that I was able to finally stop.”  
  
“Is this your way of opening up to me so I feel comfortable to share?” Franky had clearly been through all the usual bag of microskills in the counselor’s toolbox. Self-disclosure was a common structure used to make clients feel at ease.  
  
“You’re an incredibly intelligent young woman, Franky.”  
  
“Think I’m smart, do ya?”  
  
“You’d have to be to rile the feathers of all of my best psychologists,” she smirked at the patient. Franky quickly joined her, knowing full well she had been caught by the doctor sitting across from her.  
  
“I wasn’t trying to make waves,” she shrugged her shoulders playfully.  
  
“Famous last words,” Bridget teased. “Anyways, you’d have to have some smarts to be able to swindle an nurse’s swipe card to access the med-cart.” Bridget went out on a limb. Rohypnol had, in fact, been missing when she had checked. Franky’s lips spread into a wide, sly smile.  
  
“I’m curious, how did you get the card back?”  
  
“Nurse Spunky has got the hots for me.” Franky winked. The doctor could only assume that Franky was referring to Lee Radcliffe. “Slipped it back when she was tucking me in to bed.”  
  
She worked the night shifts on the ward. It wouldn’t have been difficult for Franky to charm her with that wild grin.  
  
“Well, now that we’ve gotten the how. What about the why?” The brunette paused briefly, glancing out the open blinds of the window behind them. Bridget had proved to be...different than the psychs she had seen before. She didn’t look disappointed like the others when she’d inevitably caused her life to go to shit. But not this one, Franky thought. Why else would she have stayed even after learning of the tox screen?  
  
“I just wanted to sleep,” she revealed.  
  
“Kill yourself?” Her face still remained calm and supportive.  
  
“Fuck no! I’m not that stupid. I just…wanted a decent night's rest is all.” Franky’s eyes scanned the room, searching for anything to set her sights on that weren’t the doctor’s kind blue eyes. She need an excuse and quickly.  
  
“Is your roommate keeping you up? Jodie?” Bridget leaned closer towards her.  
  
“Nah, she’s fine.” Jodie was a sweet girl. Franky couldn’t say a bad word about her because she didn’t want to cause the recovering addict any more grief at her expense. So what could she blame?  
  
“Then what could be causing you trouble sleeping?” She was fucking pushy causing Franky’s pulse to quicken in panic.  
  
“I dunno, it might be all your nosy questions,” she snapped back, predictably, her eyes narrowing in on her prey. This doctor needed to mind her own damn business.  
  
“You know, Franky, being in this program is a privilege not a right. There are plenty of women who would gladly fill your shoes. They’d probably give my psychologists a lot less grief too. The only way this program works is if you work too. Perhaps we should see if we need to make other arrangements.” Bridget moved to open her office door, allowing Franky to go free back to the solitude of her books. Checkmate, Gidget. The patient didn’t budge. 

Time to tell the truth, Doyle. What’s the worst that can happen? 

“I have night terrors.” She confessed, her eyes burning deeply. Slowly, Bridget closed the door and sat back down. “Happy?” Franky’s eyebrows raised defensively.  
  
“It’s not uncommon in new situations for nightmares to occur.” The previous authoritative tone to Bridget’s voice had been replaced with one of reassurance.  
  
“They’re every night, and they’re night terrors. I’m not stupid, I know the difference.” Franky corrected. Bridget thought back on their usual morning exchanges. Franky was always awake before the rest of the ward, but more often than not she was short tempered and moody. She frequently would isolate herself from the crowd during the day, preferring the company of a good book in her room. Could it be due to lack of sleep? Just then she noticed the slight tinge of darkness under the young woman’s eyes. “I’ve had them since...” Since Ferguson.  
  
“Is it always the same dream?” Relax, Bridget thought to herself. You’ll push her away!  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those shrinks, doc. Dream theory? Please…” Franky rolled her eyes, sinking back further into her chair. It was Bridget’s turn for her to cock an eyebrow upward, amused by the brunette’s words.  
  
“While I am very familiar with Freud’s dream theory, I’m merely asking if it’s reoccurring. Something from your past that you can recognize maybe?”  
  
‘More like my past, present, and future’, Franky thought, but she remained silent. 

“Another time, maybe,” the blonde smiled reassuringly when Franky refused to respond to the question. Was she really letting it go? “Perhaps we could prescribe you a mild sleeping-aid, something that will help you fall and stay asleep.”  
  
“Nah, I’m good thanks,” the patient shook her head without a second thought. “No pills.”  
  
“You can’t blame be for seeing the irony, Franky. You say that you do not want to use a sleeping aid, and yet to swiped medication to help you sleep. Can you explain that to me?”

Because that fucking Freak drugged me, that’s why. 

“I’m sick of talking about me,” She was up out of her seat and stood near the far corner of the room, glancing out the panel of windows. Bridget was surprised she hadn’t gotten up sooner at the direction of their conversation.  
  
“Well, that’s what we’re here for. Alright, so pills are off the table. Why don’t we brainstorm some other things that could help you sleep then?” Franky’s teeth bit her bottom lip as she walked closer towards the psychiatrist’s chair. She leaned forward allowing her hands to rest on the arm of the chair.  
  
“I can think of a few things,” she winked. The slow grin that spread across her face like that of the cheshire cat from Alice and Wonderland. Bridget felt the intake of breath to her lungs, she was non immune to the flirtatious behavior. How was it that Bridget was finding herself falling victim to the brunette’s wit and charm? She knew that the woman standing beside her had two lines of defense. The first being to attack and the second being to use her sexuality.  
  
“Are the dreams of the attack?”  
  
“What attack?” Franky’s eyes squinted in confusion.  
  
“Mike Pennisi,” Oh, that attack. Franky backed down, retreating to sit heavily back in her chair.  
  
“I know what you’re trying to do here, Gidge.”  
  
“Understand you, Franky.”  
  
“No, you’re trying to poke me, see if I bite.”  
  
“Quite the opposite, I’d much rather you do some actual work in these sessions than waste both of our time.”  
  
“They’re always the same. I’m running and someone grabs me from behind, but I can’t see their face. Then when I open my mouth to scream for help, nothing comes out. They cover my mouth with their hand.” Her gloved hand, Franky added in her mind. “I kick and I scream, but no matter what I do, I can’t get away. I’m trapped.” Tears ticked the corners of Franky’s eyes. Bridget extended a tissue which was quickly used to destroy any evidence of her emotion. Bridget gave her a moment to collect herself, Franky taking a few sips of water from her bottle nearby.  
  
“I know that must have been difficult to share with me, and I want thank you trusting me with this information. ” Franky shrugged, but her defenses had lowered significantly. “I’d like to do a sleep study, see if we can gain any information. That is, if you’d be on board?”  
  
“You’re trying to get me in bed already, Doctor?” Franky’s cheeky smile almost made Bridget’s cheeks turn red. “Your place or mine?” She didn’t give up, did she?  
  
“How about I pick you up after dinner and group, say around eight thirty?” the blonde fired back without a moment of hesitation. Franky swooned.  
  
“Sounds like a date. I better make sure I’ve got something nice to wear,” Franky stood with a bounce to her step. Like clockwork, Vera’s knock came from the door announcing the end of their session. Franky slipped out of her office, but not before giving her one final playful glance over her shoulder.  
  
“Bye, Gidget.”  
  
“I’ll see you later, Franky.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I am not a medical professional, so please note that I have minimal knowledge of sleep studies. This is fiction. Joan/Vera fans, here you go! Thank you for waiting! 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. (:

Franky had already changed out of her teal uniform by the time Bridget had knocked on the doorway of her open cell. She dressed simply in a black sleeveless shirt with a pair of gray sleep pants. The first thing Bridget noticed was the intricate tattoos covering a majority of her arms. Bridget noticed the way the vibrant colors set off the visible olive skin of her shoulders. She hadn’t expected to see the little fawn looking so… fierce.

“You’re late, Gidge. I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” Franky woke her from her daze.  
“Not a chance. Are you all set?” Bridget said as she snapped back to reality. Franky gave her a curt nod before standing up.

“See ya, Jodes.” Franky gave a quick goodbye to her roommate who waved from behind her journal where she was writing. They’d meshed quite nicely together, and even began sitting together at meals.

Bridget and Franky left the unit and headed towards the wing of the hospital filled with the hall of sleep study rooms. It had not at all been what Franky had been imagining in her brain. She’d seen the movies with little rooms with space for a bed and nothing more. They always had windows nearby for onlookers to peer in at the sleeping victim inside, like an animal on display at the zoo. Instead she was met with a room not much different than her own. It contained a bed, a nightstand, even an armchair nearby as well. It was almost cozy, she thought.

“So Franky, why don’t you make yourself comfortable.” Bridget motioned towards the bed. Franky noticed the slight tinge of rosiness that had appeared on the psychiatrist’s cheeks. The patient listened and climbed into the bed, immediately noting the comfortable mattress beneath her weary body. The two women were then joined by Nurse Bennett who began attaching a host of wires to various parts of her body, starting with electrodes to her temples.

“These will measure brain activity and help us determine stages of sleep,” Bridget spoke. Vera then moved to the edges of her eyes and chin attaching a couple more. Each time a new object was attached, Bridget would explain what it was and what it was for. It was somehow soothing to the brunette; a weird lullaby in her sweet docile voice. By the time the professionals had finished, Franky felt like a puppet strung up to the little box on her headboard where all the wires were connected. Vera then went into the adjoining monitor room to insure that the equipment was functioning properly.

“Comfortable?”

“This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had, Gidge. And I’m into some pretty kinky shit,” Franky joked making Bridget giggle as she straightened an elastic belts.

“Could you lift your shirt up please?” Bridget asked, dismissing the flirtatious comment.

“Why?” The defensiveness was back in her voice.

“These are to measure your breathing. One will go around your stomach, and the other just over your chest.”

“Can’t they go over?” Franky’s lips pursed.

“Yes, they could, but the closer it is to the skin the better the reading they provide.” Franky paused eyeing the bands in Bridget’s hands. Finally she relented and slowly lifted her shirt to expose her abdomen and ribs. Her eyes met the delicate lines of the cherry blossom tree etched into the left side of Franky’s body. It’s trunk and branches continued on past the line of her top and pants. The blonde couldn’t stop herself from noticing the little white raised flesh laying in the middle of the delicate flower blossoms.

They were scars.

Franky’s eyes watching her face as she waited for Bridget’s reaction. It was the same every time a lover had managed to coax her out of her shirt, which rarely happened. It was easier to put the focus on them than be exposed for the scarred human she was. They’d look at her with pity, and she fucking hated it.  
But Bridget stayed neutral. She didn’t even bat an eyelash as she wrapped the elastic band around Franky’s stomach.

“Is that alright?” She asked adjusting it to sit comfortably against Franky’s waist. Franky was oddly comforted by the touch from the delicate woman at her bedside. She waited too long before nodding, but all Bridget did was smile down at her before pulling her top back down to cover her midsection. The next band, Bridget was able to thread through the armholes of her tank top. Franky held her breath unconsciously when she felt the woman secure it just over the tattoo above her left breast. Franky was prepared for her to confirm it’s position this time. She nodded when the woman looked up to her eyes.

“If you need anything or want to stop, there is a call button right here.” Bridget pressed down on the square red button on the small device resting on the nightstand. “How’s everything on your end Nurse Bennett?” Bridget asked.

“We’re all set, Dr. Westfall.” Bridget didn’t bother correcting the woman this time. It was late, and they had both been pulling another double shift.

“Well, Franky. I encourage you to read, relax, whatever helps you fall asleep,”

“You know what really helps me sleep…” The patient started with a sly grin on her face. Bridget released a breathily giggle from her nose at the coy remark. This woman was quite the charmer when she wanted to be. Bridget fought hard to find a response, but knowing that the nurse was listening on was causing her some grief. Vera Bennett may have been a hard worker, but she was also a dedicated rule follower. Bridget prefered to take things on a case by case basis, living in a grey space as opposed to the limiting black and white. She would hate for the nurse to judge her for her interactions with patients. They’d recently begun a friendship that Bridget enjoyed, despite their many differences. “Night, Gidget.” Franky said, saving her. Bridget stood, grateful that the woman had somehow understood.

“Goodnight, Franky,” she said before reaching to extinguish the low light of the bedside lamp before she left. Franky quickly reached and grabbed her wrist. She didn’t speak, her eyes unable to meet those of the blonde. “Would you like this left on?” It was Bridget’s turn to translate. Franky nodded silently. “Well alright then.” The doctor wrinkled her nose towards the young woman, releasing her from any embarrassment she may be feeling. The two exchanged quick smiles before Bridget slipped out of the room leaving Franky to hopefully sleep in peace.

“I’ve got this Bridget, you should go rest for a while. I will page you if anything arises.” Bridget couldn’t bare to leave the overworked nurse alone. She looked like she could use some company. The two had gone out for a drink on a couple occasions after particularly rough days on the floor. Vera was a quiet woman, Bridget imagined she didn’t find friends very easy to come by. Something about this had caused the blonde to want to build a relationship with her.  
“No worries, Vera. I will be fine after a cup of coffee,” Bridget held her coffee mug up towards the Nurse as she prepared to settle in for the evening in front of the monitor displaying Franky’s form as she tried to make herself comfortable in bed.

“I insist. She will most likely take a few hours to fall asleep. At least she normally does on the ward,” Vera informed the psychiatrist.  
“Is that right?” Bridget sat back in her chair. Why hadn’t any of the nurses felt the need to inform the staff of this?

“Night rounds usually sees her up until around maybe one sometimes two in the morning.”

“So she’s sleep deprived as well. That could be a contributing factor to the night terrors,” She said out loud more to herself than anyone. Bridget wrestled with her next move. If that was the case, she could sneak in a few hours of rest and be paged back when Franky had fallen into her inevitable unrestful sleep.

“I have your cell number too remember?”  
“Thank you, Vera. I owe you a glass of pinot.” She headed towards the staff sleeping quarters to try to get a few hours of rest after her already full day of work.

The reason Vera Bennett had been working so many shifts the last few months was in order to care for her ailing mother. It seemed odd that she was a working overtime as a nurse in order to pay for a day nurse. It almost came to the point where she thought about taking a leave of absence, but with little to no savings, they needed the income to pay for her mum’s medical expenses.  
But Dr. Joan Ferguson had been almost like a glimmer of hope to the petite woman. She had overheard a conversation with the nurse over the phone, and offered her services free of charge. She frequently checked on the woman, and even occasionally brought Vera dinner knowing she was struggling to manage her own self-care in the face of her dire situation. The two had slowly grown to enjoy the other’s company. Vera had even met Joan’s foster daughter, Tess. She was such a beautiful young girl with deep olive skin and lively brown hair. She was a quiet young girl, preferring to keep to herself, but on some nights the three of them would play a round of scrabble around the dinner table. Most people saw Joan for the cold exterior she exuded, but the didn’t see what Vera did. Joan had taken a genuine interest in her.  
It was no surprise when Joan’s familiar knock came from the observation room’s door. She recognized it from her many visits to Vera’s home. Vera smiled shyly as she opened the door and let the tall doctor inside.  
“Your mother is doing well. I was able to administer a sedative to manage the pain for a while, the nurse will make sure she monitors her throughout the night.”

“Thank you so much, you don’t know how much I appreciate your help.” Vera was relieved to hear her mother was alright, she had been able to make it home for a few hours at the hospital before beginning the night shift. She’d called Joan when her mother pleaded with her for anything to help her pain she was experiencing at almost all waking hours.

“Why don’t you go home and spend a little bit of time with her?”

“I can’t. I’m observing for Dr. Westfall while she rests.”

“I will cover for you.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Vera, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing to aid in your time of need.”

“I don’t know what I will ever do to repay you.”

“You could join me for dinner, Tessa has been asking after you.” Vera’s heart surged in her chest at the doctor’s words. She’d had difficulty maintaining relationships with anyone under her mother’s watchful eye.

“I’d love to.”

“Go home, Vera. I can manage for a couple hours alone.”

“Thank you, Joan.” Vera smiled gently taking the woman’s gloved hand.

“Anytime, Vera.” Joan’s lips twitched upwards into a smile.

“The patient is Franky Doyle. She’s being monitored for night terrors.” Vera mentioned before she exited the small space.

Joan had already known who the patient was. She’d flagged the young woman’s name in the system. She’d noticed the order as soon as Bridget had ordered it earlier that day. She’d even swapped the technician, Jake Stewart with Vera to ensure she’d have access to the slumbering woman in the next room.  
She eventually sat down, her gaze on the monitor where her ward was breathing evenly, with a hand resting over her middle. She’d always slept this way from the moment Dr. Ferguson had seen her resting peacefully in her bedroom nestled in her home. Her bare olive arms had long been sheltered by the intrusive tattoos. Joan had been downright furious to see the smooth skin was now gone. Franky’s head fell to the right as she fell asleep in front of her eyes. How long had it been since she’d been able to rest? She drifted to sleep quickly, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest was noted on one of the room’s many monitors. Joan allowed the woman to rest for awhile, taking pity on her state. After an hour and a half, she pressed the speaker.

“Francesca, you worthless little girl,” Joan said in a calm tone. The brunette’s brow furrowed from her deep sleep at just the sound of her voice. “You’re pointless, Francesca. Who would ever want you? With all of those scars…” she continued, unable to contain her excitement. The slumbering woman’s hand began to twitch predictably. It often did when she sat at the girl’s bedside repeating the same words as she stroked her hair from her face. “Unloveable girl…” she knew the last remark was the her coup de grace.

Like clockwork Vera returned from her brief visit home just as the woman in the next room fell into the darkness of her mind. Joan had always wondered what images plagued the woman and caused her to whimper pathetically. Years ago, she often woke screaming while Joan listened from her bedroom nearby. I’ve got you now, Francesca. Vera allowed the Doctor to go and she paged Doctor Westfall. She was too preoccupied with the now thrashing woman in bed to notice the smile on Joan’s face as she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! (:


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I have minimal knowledge of sleep studies. I have read up significantly on night terrors, but please keep in mind I have not experienced them myself, and I don't know anyone who does. This is fiction. 
> 
> There are mentions self-harm, psychological distress, and depictions of a pretty severe night terror in this chapter. Please use your best judgement while reading.

Bridget walked briskly through the halls after receiving a rushed call from Vera. There was a panic in her voice like likes of which Bridget had never heard before. Vera had always managed to remain calm even under distress which meant that Bridget had to hurry through the corridor in her heels. She pulled her hair back knowing it probably had seen much better days as well as her disheveled clothes, but those were not on the top of her priority list. When she entered the observation room, Vera jumped from her spot in front of the screens. 

“Thank goodness, Bridget. Come here,” Vera motioned her closer with a wave of her hand, her initial shock from the blonde faded. She turned up the volume that was connected to the small microphone that had been attached to Franky’s throat. During most studies, it was used to detect snoring, but not this time. Bridget listened intently, at first unable to make out anything until her ears adjusted. 

Franky was whimpering softly in her sleep. Bridget’s eyes quickly moved to observe the state of the patient from the monitor discovering her hands twitching, the movement becoming more and more spastic as time went on. Her forehead was painted in a thin sheen of sweat that reached down her neck and chest dampening her shirt. 

“How long ago did it start?” Bridget’s eyes scanned the other machines, noting that her breathing rate had increased as well as her heart rate. Sure enough, the lines of the EEG monitor had gone from gradual peaks and valleys had transformed into a terrifying mess. 

“Ten minutes maybe? But it’s progressed quickly.” Just as Vera had finished speaking, Franky released a yell from the next room that they could have heard without the microphone. Bridget’s heart broke as she watched the woman’s head shake back and forth before she sat up straight in bed. Her emerald eyes were open and appeared the be scanning the darkened room. Bridget didn’t need to check the brainwaves to know that Franky was still fast asleep with her brain running the show. Her body was a mere hostage for what it had in store. She began rocking herself back and forth with her arms crossed over her chest protectively, hands moving over her bare shoulders. Bridget leaned to get a closer look. 

“What is she doing?” Vera asked, Bridget shook her head, unsure of what the movement what she was witnessing. The fingers of Franky’s right hand began to tear a trail down her left arm. 

“She’s scratching herself,” she whispered, her heart sinking as she saw Franky’s nails digging into her flesh in long strokes until the flesh was lined with red, angry stripes. Bridget’s hand was on the door handle before she could recall telling her brain to act. 

“Bridget, wait! You’ll compromise the whole study,” Vera felt somewhat responsible for not having a clearer picture of what was happening to the woman next door. Perhaps she should have stayed instead of visiting her mother. She felt guilty for not being able to treat the woman properly because of her lack of care. She shook her head, dismissing the thought. If Joan had noticed anything, she would have told her. 

“She’s harming herself, we can’t let it continue.” Bridget turned back towards the door. 

“She’s stopped, look.” Vera spoke quickly as she investigated the picture once more. Bridget released her grip on the door handle and returned to her spot. Franky had in fact stopped tearing her nails down her arms. Her body was practically curled into a fetal position, her spine curved into herself as if she was trying to hide from whatever imaginary demons were battling inside her. Her hair had fallen to cover her face, hiding the terror in her eyes. Then she began speaking under her breath. 

“Worthless, pointless, nothing. Worthless, pointless, nothing.” She repeated on a loop in a cold, almost eerie voice. It was not the same one that had just been teasing the psychiatrist a few hours before. This was one of a scared girl trapped in herself. 

“Get out, get out, get out! Her scream crescendoed into pure agony as she began tugging harshly at her long tendrils, exposing her face. Tears had paved their way in streams down her flushed skin as she sobbed.

Bridget couldn’t take it anymore. She entered the room, carefully despite Vera’s protests. The hell with the study, the poor woman was in pain. Pain like Bridget had never seen before waking or not. Seeing Franky attack herself violently should have put up red flags, but she passed them with little care.  
The scene was worse in person. Hearing the tormented cries without the aid of a microphone made them even more real as she watched the woman thrash erratically. It caused her a moment of pause, taking in her whole feral state. The little sheep had turned out to be a wolf underneath. Finally, Bridget moved forward towards the foot of the bed. 

“Franky, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She said, her voice calm, even if she wasn’t. 

The woman continued to shake from her spot on the bed, speaking incomprehensibly through her tears. 

“She’s gonna kill me. She’s gonna fucking kill me,” She whimpered through her tears. Her face contorted in anguish. The blonde lost her breath entirely. 

All Bridget had wanted to do was wake the woman from the hell she was in while knowing full well it was the worst possible thing to do in the given circumstance. Walking her would only worsen her fright. The last thing Bridget wanted to do was spook her. The psychiatrist knew that children often could be soothed back to sleep with gentle words and touches. She’d hoped the same to be true with adults. Night terrors in adults was rare, so rare that Bridget had never treated them before. Due to the nature of her relationship with Franky, Bridget was reserved to use touch. Vera was no doubt watching by in the other room, and was already judging her for intervening to begin with. 

“Franky, it’s Bridget. You’re okay, alright?” She said again, practically cooing the gentle words. Suddenly, Franky’s movements slowed as she heard the gentle tone. Bridget continued, her voice pouring over the frightened patient. She knew it didn’t matter what she said, the brunette was asleep, and most likely wouldn’t remember. The young woman’s movements had almost stopped including the tight grip on her scalp. All that remained of the terror filled moment was her soft crying. Bridget took a risk and reached out with her hand to touch Franky’s forearm, careful to avoid the parts of her skin with the long scratches. 

That was when the tears stopped. Silence fell over the two women, Franky’s breathing returning to a slow, gentle rhythm. Bridget gently rubbed the skin underneath her thumb in gentle strokes until she had finally calmed. Franky slow sank back into the comfort of the bed, her eyes closing. Bridget went to remove her hand, only for it to be grabbed back. Franky laced their fingers together; her hand was still twitching slightly. Bridget smiled. She had been right about the physical touch. She checked the electrodes on Franky’s forehead, pretending it wasn’t so she could brush the woman’s damp hair back from her forehead. Bridget observed the faintest of smiles appear on the corner of Franky’s lips. Bridget stayed until Franky’s grip loosened and she was finally resting peacefully. Before she left, she squeezed the hand reassuringly. 

“You’re safe, Franky. I promise you’re safe,” she whispered softly before she returned to the room next door to watch over the patient as her protector. 

And for once, Franky was able to sleep all through the night without being plagued by the dark memories of Joan Ferguson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I always appreciate feedback.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter contains a dark flashback of Joan/Frank in italicized font.   
> TW: Child abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, verbal abuse, psychological torture 
> 
> If you feel you will be triggered in anyway shape or form, please skip!

Bridget had finally gone home to sleep before her next shift. She’d need to recharge for her second session with Franky. After witnessing the magnitude of her terrors, Bridget was at a crossroads. Something or rather someone was creating this chaos inside Franky’s brain. Was it past trauma? Bridget prayed to any god that would listen that the brunette hadn’t experienced sexual abuse. She’d seen the way past experiences could wreck even the strongest of people. It wasn’t uncommon for victims of abuse to seek refuge in substances. Was that the reason she’d turned to drugs? Could it be to calm the demons inside her?

Franky’s second session with the psychiatrist was due in the next half hour, which gave Bridget an opportunity to fully scan Franky’s records. The small photo taken at her arrest didn’t even look like her. She’d looked downright ragged with deep and dark circles under her sunken eyes. The normally bright eyes appeared completely dead in her photo, as if she had given up.

As she scanned further, medical records were scarce. A majority of the findings were from when she was a young girl. There were few hospital visits for various injuries, all of which were explained as schoolyard foolishness. As time went on, the injuries appeared to increase in severity. What had started as a few cuts escalated into broken bones: an arm and clavicle to be exact. A complaint from a neighbor had been logged from child protective services citing that they could hear the young girls screams through the paper thin walls. She had been abused and likely at the hands of a parent or relative. Bridget sighed in despair.

Then it was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth. Nothing was listed from ages fourteen until present day. How was it possible? No one, not even healthy as an ox Bridget had a blank record like this.

Eventually a knock came at the door, and it was opened to allow the brunette to slip in the room. She fell into her preferred arm chair. The look on her face immediately clued the blonde into the fact that Franky was not feeling up to talking that day. Her hands crossed protectively over her chest, an often familiar defense.

“How are you feeling after last night?” Franky shrugged in response. “You were right about your night terrors. Franky, I have to be honest with you. I’m a little out of my depth here. I’ve never treated an adult with terrors as severe as yours.” Like clockwork, Franky shrugged again. Her walls were back up. In a last ditch effort, Bridget pushed on.

“Before you told me you didn’t know who the person behind you was... but that night you said ‘she’.” Franky’s eyes flashed up meet Bridget’s.

“So?”

“Who is she?”

“I told ya, I don’t know,” her icy tone washed over the room.

“Let’s say you did know, what would you say to her?” It was a trick she’d learned back in her theories class long ago with particularly difficult clients.

Franky shrugged, turning to look out the window. It had become her primary defense tactic. If she couldn’t see the psychiatrist, maybe the psychiatrist wouldn’t see her. Bridget eyed the teal hoodie covering the patient. She noticed that Franky’s thumbs were nestled in holes along the sleeves seam which caused the garment to cover most of her hands in the process. Then it clicked.

“You normally wear sleeves to bed.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact.

“What’s it to you?” Franky’s eyes zeroed in back on the blonde sitting beside her.

“Is that to stop from hurting yourself in your sleep?” Bridget had seen how roughly Franky’s nails would travel down her flesh, as if she was trying to tear it away from whatever invisible threat lay beneath the surface. How long had she been harming herself? Did she do it during waking hours as well?

“When did you know you were gay?” The question should have shocked her, but instead Bridget smiled lightly.

“Why did you change the subject? Is it because you are uncomfortable?” 

“Because you what know everything about me. Seems only fair I get something back.”

“Unfortunately that’s not how these sessions work. We’re here to talk about you, what’s causing these night terrors to happen. Can you remember a time before you had them?”

“I know you’re a dyke.” The sly grin had returned to her lips.

“Is there a reason you seem to be concerned with my sexual orientation, Franky?”

“I’m not gonna talk, so you can either piss off or let me go back to my unit,” she snapped back practically baring her teeth like an animal.

“I think you know who the person in your dream is. I think it’s someone who may have abused you in the past,” Bridget pushed forward another inch. _Come on, Franky_.

Franky stayed silent, but she leaned forward in her chair until she was able to rest her elbows on her thighs below. She was listening, and she hadn’t completely dissociated yet.

“ I think it’s someone who may have abused you in the past.” The brunettes eyes darkened at the statement.

“Do you get off on hearing about others sob stories? Is that why you do this? Miss _fucking_ perfect with a perfect little life.” She fought back in an attempt to protect herself. 

“My life is far from perfect, Franky.” Bridget did understand where the young patients words were coming from. In theory, she was the caretaker, the one in control and calling the shots.

“Bullshit,” the brunette and rolled her eyes.

“My father was an alcoholic. He left my mother and I when I was five.” Bridget had never once revealed this information in a session. She’d been so intrigued by substance abuse after dealing with the abandonment of her dad. She knew deep down his issues had never really been about her, but something much deeper. She’d made peace with his actions. Now she sought to help others before they reached the point of no return.

“You poor thing. At least he didn’t stick around and beat you. At least you had a mum.”

“My mum died when I was thirteen, ovarian cancer.” The confession had caused the look of loathing in Franky’s face to soften.

“I’m sorry,” her eyes connected with Bridget’s blue ones.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know. On the outside my life may look put together, Franky, but truth is…Some days I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.” It wasn’t a fabricated response. Franky could tell she’d actually meant it.

Franky cracked small smile.

“Why is it that shit only happens to the good parents? It’s always the sweet mums who get ill, not the pieces of shit that deserve it.” Bridget could have pumped her fist in the air. She was talking! Even if she wasn’t directly sharing her experience. Maybe if Bridget could keep her going, they could get somewhere and truly help Franky move on to recovery.

“You think people deserve to be punished for their wrongdoing?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why I’m here to begin with? I fucked up, and now I’m paying for it,” the patient laughed, her breath escaping from her nose.

“In theory, yes. But you were speaking of karmic justice before, not your kind. Letting the universe work things out for itself.

“Now sound like a hippie, Gidget,” Franky teased.

“Says the vegetarian,” Bridget’s eyebrows raised playfully. She truly did enjoy the

“Can’t blame me for caring about the world.”

“Why a vegetarian though?”

“Because I don’t like sausage,” she distracted once more with a wrinkle of her nose.

“Let’s be serious for a moment.” Bridget internally shook herself back out of the flirtatious conversation. _Focus, Bridget._

“I just don’t like it is all,” Franky lied through her teeth.

“Sure it wasn’t anything else?” The psychiatrist noted the way the patients green eyes were memorizing the carpeted floor below her feet. The scratching had returned, this time over her legs that were covered in her teal track pants. “My teacher third year forced us to eat cow tongue without telling us. It was in a book we had been reading, and she thought it was a good excuse to play a joke on us. I remember crying the whole way home with my grandmum. I haven’t eaten meat since, not even chicken.” Coax the animal out of the cave. _We’re not so different, you and I_ , Bridget thought. 

 

_Franky hadn’t been sleeping will in the nights following Joan’s first visit to her bedroom. She could still feel the soreness in her muscles below her legs, but as promised, she hadn’t spoken a word to her mother. She had enough to worry about with a colicky infant attached to her hip. Franky also knew better than to ruin a good thing. Her mother hadn’t laid a hand on her in years, and Franky intended to keep it that way._

_In daylight hours, Joan Ferguson was a different person entirely. She was kind, generous even. She made sure that Franky had pristine uniforms for school complete with brand new shoes that didn’t pinch her toes to accompany them. For once it felt good to not be the poor kid that everyone judged silently. At least Joan had given her that much less to worry about._

_After her first late night visit, Franky had given her a wide breadth, fearing a reprisal visit. Instead she kept her head down and her mouth shut around the stoic woman. She’d hated the way she could feel Joan’s eyes on her around the house. She’d much preferred the comfort of her bedroom where she could bury her nose in a book and escape._

_Mealtimes were particularly difficult for the young girl. With a distracted mother feeding her little sister, no one noticed the way the Doctor would watch Franky’s every move at the table. Every bite of food she brought to her mouth was carefully observed by the woman sitting across the long mahogany table._

_Franky fucking hated mealtimes. She’d taken to shoveling her food down her throat as quickly as possible under Joan’s watchful, calculating eyes. She’d do anything to escape the gaze that made her spine twinge. She’d become an expert at hiding the things she didn’t eat in her napkin, fearful of what Joan would do if she knew Franky didn’t like certain things. It was easier to spit them in a napkin, and bury the evidence in the bin._

_One evening as she was disposing of her castoffs, Joan watched behind her as she tried to tuck the evidence away._

_“What do you think you’re doing, Francesca?” Franky froze, knowing she’d been caught. Joan held out her gloved hand waiting for the young girl to place the item in question in her palm. Shaking, she placed the napkin full of the food she’d been unable to eat. The doctor unwrapped it like a Christmas package while the small girl watched horrified as she uncovered her secret. “Go to your room,” she said evenly. Franky didn’t have to be told twice to do things. She’d flown up the stairs and retreated to her bed where she waited for hours. As the time approached midnight, Franky assumed that Joan was waiting until morning to dole out her punishment._

_She awoke not even a couple hours later feeling her skin crawling underneath her bedsheets. At first, she’d assumed it was just her mind playing tricks on her again. She tried to kick and brushed the scratching feeling away, only to feel it get worse and worse over time to the point it felt like she was being eaten alive._

_When she blinked out of her sleep induced state and tore her blanket from her body, she saw the small beady red eyes and sharp claws crawling over her. Small white mice were trailing over her bare skin like she was a smorgasbord. She screamed and began kicking and clawing the scratching the feeling away as she retreated towards the head of her bed with her legs pulled up to her chest. Even after she had rid her skin of the wiggling creatures, she’d still felt their lingering touch crawling over her skin like a bad dream. She continued to try to brush, slap, and scratch it away. Anything to rid her skin of that awful feeling._

_Panting, she’d noticed she was being watched from the dimly lit corner of the room. Their eyes met, and Franky knew she was smiling even in the darkness. Tears were silently trailing down her panicked face._

_“You have a choice, Francesca. Eat or be eaten.” Joan had turned on her bedside light to reveal a small specimen jar with one tiny, pink creature trying to claw its way out of the glass. “If you feel the food I provide you is not good enough, perhaps these rodents are more to your liking.”_

_“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise,” Franky begged already knowing where the sadistic woman was going. She’d never really make her go through with it, not if she was remorseful enough. “Please!” She tried again, tears streaming._

“ _Please what?” The tall woman waited._

_“Please Auntie Joan,” she cried out._

_“I'm afraid it’s too late. You know what happens when you misbehave, there are consequences. I am at least empathetic enough to give you a choice in your punishment, unlike that mother of yours. You may either sleep in this bed like the sniveling rodent you are, or end it all.” She’d picked up the glass jar, the infant mouse inside scratching hard to escape. It’s fur hadn’t even had a chance to grow yet. Franky’s heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. She shook her head back and forth._

_“I’ll be good, I swear. Just please don’t make me do this.” Franky knew that it was fruitless, but she was desperate to escape._

_“What will it be Francesca? Kill or be killed?”_

_Franky reached for the jar. Anything to escape the terrifying woman in front of her._

 

“Franky? Are you still with me?” Bridget’s soothing voice brought franky out of her sordid memory.

“Mice” Franky whispered, reaching her hand up to touch her throat. She could still feel it like it was yesterday. “She put them in my bed.” When Franky’s eyes closed, and she swallowed hard. “Either I stayed in there with all of them, or I ate one of the babies.”

Bridget had never heard of such…sickening torture. She wasn’t quite sure how she was able to keep a straight face at the dark confession.

“So I did…I couldn’t take the feeling of them on my skin anymore. I can still feel them, hear them. I can’t stand the thought of hurting anything like I did to that innocent creature.” Franky looked down to see she’d somehow raised her sleeve and was scratching away at old wounds.

“You did what you had to do to survive.” Bridget managed to interpret. The patient nodded quickly, tears filling her eyes after reliving her trauma. “Franky, I believe that post-traumatic stress disorder may be causing your night terrors as well as your insomnia. It is common after traumatic events to experience lasting effects, and it sounds like you experienced some truly terrible things. The one way to deal with this, is to talk about what has happened in order to work past it. You started today by sharing such a difficult and troubling memory. I know that wasn’t easy, especially after holding it in for many years. I thank you for your honestly.”

“Do you think you can help me?” The voice was quiet. Bridget could swear she saw the frightened young girl just below the surface.

“I do,” Bridget responded confidently when in reality she had no idea. Franky still continued to scratch away until the psychiatrist placed her hand over them. “We can work through this.”

“Bridget?” The blonde was unsure of her patient had ever spoken her real name out loud.

“Thank you,” Franky spoke softly with genuine gratitude in her voice. She squeezed Bridget’s hand tightly. The knock at the door interrupted, forcing them to break contact as Linda Miles waited to escort Franky back to her ward.

 

 **********************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Long after the psychiatrist had left for the day, a dark figure in a medical coat unlocked the door to her office and entered without a sound. She then quickly retrieved the small recording device from underneath the desk before venturing home

Tess and Vera had already eaten dinner and were in the living room by the time Joan had returned home, the small recorder stowed safely in her coat pocket for later. It would have to wait until the dark of night. Tess was dismissed to her room after a short time in front of the television with some pointless dribble that she and Vera had been watching. She hated letting the young girl rot her brain in front of the box.

Joan and her petite counterpart retreated towards the master suite soon after, both preparing themselves for sleep. Joan had finally let her hair down from its pristine bun and changed into her sleepwear, covering her matching pajamas with a robe. She spotted Vera brushing her teeth in the bathroom, making eye contact with her through the bathroom mirror. Joan brushed a bare hand over the nurses shoulder which made Vera smile shyly. Physical touch was something that didn’t necessarily come easy to the women, but the nurse had been patient with her. Slowly over time, the touches came more frequently. But spending the night with the Doctor was entirely new. Joan had reserved a night nurse for her mother, giving the petite woman an opportunity to relax from her duties.

“Tess seems to be excited to turn thirteen. Do you think that the adoption will have gone through by then?” Vera had grown to love her evenings with Tess. The young girl had opened up to Vera that evening, as they watched a reality tv program about tattoos. The preteen had seemed so invested. ‘ _My sister has tattoos_ . _They’re much prettier than those,’_ Tess had revealed. Joan had only spoken briefly of Tess’ biological family. Both parents were addicts and died of overdose. Her older sister had run away from Joan’s care and they hadn’t heard from her since. The doctor believed she’d met the same fate as her parents before her. How could they be missing out on the sweet young girl’s life like this?

“I hope so. It would really be a great surprise, would it? A permanent home. She seems to have warmed to you.” Vera blushed at the compliment.

“She’s wonderful,” Vera turned back to face the tall woman. “Are you coming to bed right away?”

“Yes, I believe I am. It has been an exhausting day.” The two got into bed from their respective sides. Joan on the right, and Vera on the left. “Goodnight, Vera.” Joan spoke in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Joan,” she settled onto her side, closing her eyes.

After Vera had sunken into rhythmic breathing, Joan slipped out of the room towards her office space downstairs. She looked the findings onto her waiting laptop and began to listen to the audio recording. It was a necessary precaution to listen to the content of the therapy sessions. Joan knew that the blonde head shrinker would preach confidentiality; something Joan Ferguson did not care anything about. It was her right to know what her former ward had revealed to the Doctor. She’d give her a reprieve and a few days of uninterrupted rest if she’d chosen to heed her warning. And if she misbehaved yet again, the consequences would be soon to follow. Joan smiled at the bright screen of the computer.

"When will you ever learn, Francesca?" she whispered into the dark office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments/suggestions/love below!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the lighter side. That being said, please read responsibly 
> 
> TW: Self-harm, violence, psychological distress, beginnings of Fridget

Franky’s head should have been reeling after her confession, but instead she felt a wave of peace. Instead of immediately retreating towards her room, Franky decided to plant herself near one of the few windows in the lounge. It wasn’t much of a view with another wing of the hospital across a small, deserted courtyard below.

  
“It’s nice to see you out of your room,” a bell-like voice came from beside her chair. Franky looked over to see one of the long-term patients, Liz, sitting nearby. The older woman was kind, so kind Franky had a hard time believing she had really killed her mother-in-law. Alcohol had a funny way of changing a person. The Liz she knew was miles away from the addict she once was. She had become like the mother of the ward to many of the young, new patients. Franky gave her a soft smile.

“Can’t hide away forever, can I?” she teased.

“Good session with Bridget?” Franky nodded, not willing to share much more. She was protective of her time with the psychiatrist. The more time that she spent in her presence, the more Franky felt comfortable to share. She’d never experienced someone who could see through her front so easily. Bridget Westfall was fucking real. She genuinely cared about her well being. If she didn’t know any better, she could have swore she heard the woman’s gentle voice playing over in her head, ‘You’re safe, Franky. I promise, you’re safe.’ It was a much appreciated change from the cold, calculated tone she was used to.

Soon enough, the women were joined by Franky’s roommate, Jodie and her mate Allie Novak. Both had met in a group session, and seemed to becoming comfortable with one another. They ate dinner together and Liz somehow coaxed Franky into joining them for a game of cards around the table. They’d spent the evening laughing and shuffling cards until they had to be dismissed back to their units for the count. On the way down the corridor, Jodie’s hand found Franky’s and squeezed it gently.

“I like when you come out of your shell,” Jodie revealed bumping her shoulder against her. The taller woman smiled at the playful touch. Her roommate was awful sweet, but sweet was not meant to be with Franky Doyle.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” They turned the corner towards their block of rooms block, both nodding their goodbyes to Liz as they went.

“Because now I’m not the worst one at the table,” the petite woman teased.

“Ouch, Jodes! You really know how to push a girl’s buttons.” The two laughed as they entered their joint room. Franky began to shrug off her hoodie in favor of a more comfortable long sleeved shirt. Jodie had been understanding about Franky’s wish for privacy while she changed. It hadn’t stopped Jodie from accidentally catching glimpses of the raised skin of her arms and thighs. She’d seen hopheads with worse, but Franky didn’t really fit that description. Once Franky dressed in her sleepwear, she turned around to see Jodie sliding her sleep shirt over her head. The tall woman blushed, turning her sights back on her own bed and the book laying on it. She’d always talked a big game, but when it actually came to it, Franky was fucking clueless with women. The few she’d attempted to date never stuck around long, not after seeing what demons possessed her in the night. It was easier to bare the burden alone. It was much safer that way. In another life, maybe she and Jodie could have been something. But in this one, they were destined to be friends and nothing more.

  
“Night, Franky.” Jodie said as she dimmed the lamp beside her bed. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best.”

 

Jodie Spiteri was such a heavy sleeper. She slumbered peacefully as Joan watched over the two from the small skinny window into their room. Franky had lost her battle with her exhaustion around three, and she’d finally slipped away to sleep. The worn text had fallen open against her chest as it moved evenly with the rise and fall of her breath. If the woman watching from behind the door didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn the young woman was smiling in her sleep. She could have broken every bone in that pathetic body with the anger that coursed through her veins. Joan entered the room with ease, closing the door silently behind her. She knew exactly how to get rid of that grin.

 

As Bridget rounded the wards in the morning, she was woken from her routine by the blood-curdling scream from the end of the other corridor. The floor’s guards sprung to action, racing towards the noise. The psychiatrist followed quickly behind even in her blue heels. The further they got to the end of the hall, the louder the pounding against the solid door became.

It was Franky’s room. They were Franky’s screams.

“HELP!” The screams came louder.

“Hurry, open the door!” Bridget exclaimed towards Matthew Fletcher. He quickly swiped his badge, and swung the door open. Franky had moved away, and backed herself into the empty corner as far away as she could get. Her eyes were wide with fear, as she tried to hold back her sobs. She pointed with a shaking hand towards her roommates bed.

  
“Jodie!” Bridget couldn’t contain her gasp as she saw the bloodied state of the patient. “Call medical!” She quickly demanded the officer, just as Vera arrived to tend to the injured woman. The psychiatrist quickly sprang into action, she took Franky’s shaking hand and pulled her from the room and into the locked staff elevator. Neither spoke. The only sound that could be heard was that of Franky’s deep, shaking breaths. Bridget didn’t let go of her grip on the young woman’s hand, carefully allowing her thumb to run reassuring circles. Thank god, Vera wasn’t there to see. When the elevator dinged their arrival at the top floors roof access, Bridget lead the shivering woman outside for the first time in months. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal as she inhaled the crisp air.

“Are you alright?” it was then the blonde noticed she was still gripping the patient’s hand firmly in her own. At the realization, she dropped it. Franky nodded brushing her hands over her face where the tears had started to fall. She was likely in shock.

“She did it to herself.” The brunette blinked a few times, resurfacing to her body once more. As she looked around she noticed the morning sky above her. “Where are we?”

“The roof. You’re always looking out the window in my office, so I…” Bridget trailed off, the young woman was smart enough to fill in the rest of the blanks. Finally calming, Franky took Bridget’s hand back, delivering a few pulses with her own.

“Would you do this for any of the women?” Franky asked barely above a whisper. Bridget froze, unsure of how to respond. When she opened her mouth to speak, she was interrupted by the blaring walkie talkie on her belt.

“Prisoner Spiteri has been transferred to medical, but Doyle is MIA,” Linda Miles radioed loudly.

“Doyle is with me. She needed psychiatric support after what she has witnessed. Please alert me when Spiteri is stable, I would like to visit her.” Bridget spoke calmly as her hand remained nestled in between slender fingers.

“Bridget?” Franky had never referred to the psychiatrist by her legal name, instead preferring to call her by the little nickname she’d given out the first day they met on the ward. By the serious look on her face, it appeared something called for the switch. “Thank you,” she whispered sincerely, brushing her thumb over Bridget’s knuckles. The intimate touch sent a blush that spread over Bridget’s cheeks. Perhaps she’d finally coaxed the wounded animal from her cage, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one!

The psychiatrist spent the remainder of the day pondering her actions. She hadn’t been acting like the professional she claimed to be. Why else would she have broken protocol and bring Franky to the roof? She’d seen the look of terror on her face, and it was like her body was propelled to act. She knew exactly what to do, but that wasn’t her job. Her job was to help Franky figure it out for herself. Objectivity. She needed to remain objective despite the obvious pull she felt towards the patient.The last thing that Franky needed was someone else using her for their own selfishness. That’s what it was. She was being selfish. It was time to put a stop to the madness she was feeling.

  
When finished with her last session for the day, Bridget drove to her friend’s home nearby. She wasn’t ready to face her empty home with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company just yet. She needed another voice to fill her mind for just awhile.

  
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Imogen said extending a waiting wine glass to the blonde. Bridget laughed through her nose at the comment. Imogen Fessler was blunt as ever, but it was exactly what the psychiatrist needed right now. They’d formed a bond over a beginning psychology course in their undergraduate days. She quickly decided that she’d leave the counseling to her friend, and moved onto study law.

  
The two friends sat down on the lounge as Bridget launched into the last six months of her daily life. The last six months she spent becoming dangerously close to crossing boundaries she’d swore she never would. She explained without holding back how the best part of her day had become the little quips of conversation she’d exchange with the brunette. She was fiercely charming, underneath it all. She’d even detailed the extend of her use of touch with patient. Instinctually she’d held her hand. If anyone had seen, they’d surely question her sanity instead of her patient’s. Franky had even questioned her involvement.

_‘Would you do this for any of the women?’_

_No, I wouldn’t. Just you._

“I think I’m crossing a line, if I haven’t crossed it already.” Bridget confessed with her eyes clouding with tears. Imogen’s hand came to rest reassuringly on her forearm. The women let the truth settle in the air momentarily before the lawyer opened her mouth to speak.

  
“You need to transfer her care to someone else. You know it’s the right thing to do,” the words were exactly what Bridget had wanted her to say, but it still wasn’t enough.

  
“She’ll never trust me again,” She couldn’t bear to think of the hurt she would cause the woman. She’d just started to coax her out of the deep caverns of her mind, and here she was messing it up.

  
“Get it together, Westfall. You need a clean break, cut ties now while you can,” her friend’s tone may have sounded harsh to the untrained ear, but it was what she needed to hear. “The longer you put this off the more likely you’re involvement is to be questioned. You’ve already compromised it in front of the nurse. You’re lucky if no one else brings it up in front of the board of directors, Bridget. What has gotten into you?” Imogen was dismayed. How on earth was this level-headed Bridget sitting across from her? The psychiatrist had often been the one to remind her of client/lawyer boundaries when she’d felt strongly about certain cases. She’d kept her level on many occasions. How could she be so completely knocked off her game?

  
“I think she’s different, Imogen.” You don’t see the hope behind those pained eyes like I do. You don’t see how light they can be when she smiles.  
“Don’t throw your career away for a pretty face with a sordid past. You know I’m right. It’s what’s best for her in order to help her heal.” Bridget wiped the escaped tears from her cheeks with a deep shaking breath.

  
“You’re right. I have to let her go.” Bridget nodded, resolved that the next day she would transfer the patient to her colleague, Will Jackson. The drive home helped her solidify the decision on her own. She knew it was the right thing to do, but she also knew the consequence of it as well. Franky would feel abandoned. She’d get passed it, sure, no doubt she had before. If only she could have stuck to the boundaries with the woman, instead of breaking every rule in the book. By the time she’d made it back to her home, she stumbled out of her tired heels and clothes on the way towards her bedroom. She hadn’t even bothered to put on pajamas before she collapsed into bed. She tossed and turned through the night, her dreams invaded with the image of sparkling green eyes and a hopeful smile.

 

 

Franky had been alone in her double room since Jodie had been transferred permanently to the psychiatric ward. Normally the promise of a single room would have pleased her, but now she couldn’t help but think back to the state of Jodie’s bloody face as she was taken away screaming. It hadn’t made sense to Franky in the slightest. They’d just been joking playfully the whole evening prior. Jodie hadn’t seemed like she was on edge, and she didn’t show any of the signs of a psychotic break. She’d planned on voicing her concerns at her next session with Bridget. She knew that the psychiatrist would listen.  
Linda Miles arrived soon after lunch to escort her to the block of offices where the Doctor’s would host their sessions. Just when she’d turned to make the usual entrance into Bridget’s office, Officer Miles hand reach out and blocked her way.  
“You’re scheduled with Mr. Jackson, Doyle.”

  
“Nah, Bridget’s my doctor,” Franky said, shaking her head.

  
“Was. You’re with Mr. Jackson now. Now come on before I slot you in isolation,” Linda warned hashly.

  
“No fuckin’ way!” Franky knocked on the door just underneath Bridget’s etched name in the door. “Gidge, c’mon. Open up, it’s me!” she knocked again, louder this time.

Bridget sat in her office like a coward when she’d heard the scuffle taking place outside.

“Doyle, either you stop that or I’m calling for an escort,” Linda practically yelled at the self-destructing patient. Bridget knew she should have told Franky about her referral on… The brunette deserved honesty after all she had disclosed to the psychiatrist. But she couldn’t bear to face the pained betrayal in her eyes. So she’d passed her file along to Will with little explanation as to why. She was woken from her thoughts when she saw the door handle rattle as she tried to open it, but found it to be locked.

  
“You’re a fucking coward!” Franky shouted as she slammed her open palm against the frosted glass so hard it shook.

  
“That’s it, Doyle. You’re done.” Linda reached for her remote to alert backup.

  
“You hear that, Gidge? I’m done,” the brunette yelled at the door. Anger was boiling in her blood. If she squinted hard enough, Bridget could make out the outline of the woman on the other side. Seconds later, she jumped when Franky’s fist connected to the door loudly. She sat, glued to her chair as tears welled in her eyes. In the corridor, there were sounds of struggle as Franky was no doubt restrained and forcefully dragged to isolation.

“I’m sorry, Franky. I’m so sorry,” she whispered into her empty office.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child abuse, psychological abuse, physical abuse

Vera was awoken from her thoughts when her pager beeped loudly hat her side. It didn’t come as much of a surprise when two officers came through the doors, carting a very resistant patient in their arms. The teal blur would not stop fighting through her yells as they took her down to the floor, Officer Fletcher pinning her down.  
“Vera! She’s being slotted! She needs to be sedated!” Linda Miles shouted, out of breath from the struggle.

“No!” Franky yelled loudly trying to raise her head from her place on the cold laminate floor only for it to be slammed right back down. She hissed at the pounding under her temples. Vera cringed at the officer’s overuse of strength.

“Stop resisting, Doyle,” Matt said as his knee pressed down further against Franky’s back. Franky was writhing underneath him, not as an attempt to resist, but an attempt to escape the suffocating pressure above her.

“Please…” she whimpered trying to pull air into her struggling lungs.

“Fletch! Stop! Can’t you see you’re hurting her?” Vera yelled as she used her fists to beat against the officer’s back until he was forced to release the woman from beneath him. In the scuffle, the edge of Vera’s fingernail had managed to cut Fletcher’s lip causing it to bleed down his white uniform shirt.

“You will leave me to tend to Ms. Doyle’s injuries. I will escort her to isolation.”

“What’s gotten into you?” The officer muttered under his shaking breath.

“You were hurting her! Get out of here, go!” Vera yelled to the officer, who quickly left to tend to his bloodied lip. Once Fletcher had left, Vera dropped to her knees to Franky’s side. Once the patient had caught her breath, Vera helped her into a nearby room to assess the her state. After removing the restraints from Franky’s wrists, she helped her out of her blooded teal jacket. The only lasting injury were to her knuckles from when she’d punched Bridget’s office door. Vera cleaned them as Franky sat with her legs hanging off the side of a triage bed.

  
“Thanks,” Franky whispered with her eyes on Vera’s hands as they worked delicately. The nurse nodded gently as she continued to wrap the woman’s knuckles with great care. Vera’s eyes wandered down her bare arms to scan for further injuries. When she noticed the raised skin along Franky’s forearms, she reached out to investigate further. “Don’t worry, they’re old,” Franky quickly moved to pull her arms away from the intruding touch. She’d wanted to get back in her hoodie as quickly as possible. She hated the feeling of eyes on her skin. That was when Vera noticed the beautiful scrolling script along the inside of Franky’s bicep. The nurse squinted as she tried to get a clearer view of the word etched into the woman’s skin.

“What’s that say, on your arm?” Vera reached forward once more to see the black ink dancing on olive skin. Before her eyes could focus clearly, Franky had pulled her arms back in the comfort of her jacket. They’d taken so much of her freedom already, she wasn’t willing to part with what little secrecy she had left.

She was carted off to isolation to sulk in the privacy of her own hamster cage. Beforehand Franky was stripped of the comfort of her teals in exchange for an oversized and over-starched gown because even zippers were forbidden down in the slot. As if anyone could kill themselves with a pair of trackies. Franky couldn’t help but feel like a small child in the uncomfortable clothing exposing the raised scars of her legs. She’d carved them into her skin when her dreams were invaded with the tiny sharp claws crawling over her. She tugged the material down to cover them as much as she could.  
As the silence sit in, her mind wandered to the woman hiding behind the office door. Franky wracked her brain trying to think. What had she done wrong? She’d given her honesty, pure and raw. She’d confided some of her darkest memories to the woman. Maybe that was just it. Bridget got a close up view at the inner workings of her twisted mind, and she decided to run for the hills while she still had the chance.

_“You’re safe, Franky. I promise you’re safe.”_ What a load of shit. She shook the voice from her mind, allowing her head to rest back against the cool concrete behind her. When the voice would echo again, she’d repeat the process. Shake it out, shake it out. Anything to rid herself of the comforting tone. It didn’t comfort anymore, all it did was make her chest rattle painfully. She tugged at her long locks at the scalp to distract herself.

“Get out, get out, get out!” she muttered to herself, feeling her eyes clouding with unshed tears. There was no more hope. No more promise of crystal blue colored eyes radiating nothing but truth. She allowed herself to hit her head back against the solid concrete, just hard enough to make her wince a little. It alleviated the dull ache momentarily, so she set out to do it again, but harder this time. Maybe she’d actually knock herself out. Then the fucking voice would stop ringing in her mind.

Only before her head slammed back against the wall, it was cradled swiftly by a black gloved hand, stopping the blow.  
“What’s all this about, Francesca?” The hand stroked the back of her head, coaxing those tear-filled eyes upward. The movement caused two tears to trail down Franky’s chiseled cheeks. Joan’s lips turned upwards when their eyes locked. She’d always envied how easily the young woman cried. She’d tried for years to teach her ward how to hide it, but she’d never learned.

_She could see the rage simmering below the surface the first time she laid eyes on the girl in the emergency room. She’d been in before with smatterings of injuries here and there. Each time her mother sat silently by with an excuse for every one of them. This time it was a broken arm and clavicle. The girl’s tears had long since dried up by the time Joan arrived to set the arm. All that was left was their worn trail, drying against flushed cheeks. She’d been informed that child protective services would be arriving shortly to question the girl. As Joan worked, she observed her. Her eyes were so large. She noticed the way that the jade orbs stayed busy taking in her surroundings, like a frightened doe. They never stopped and settled long enough to focus on the doctor tending to her wounds. Joan could only imagine the kinds of trauma those eyes had witnessed to make them look that way. The poor thing was destined to end up like her drug-addicted mother. Strung out, beating her children, fucking for her next hit. But no, she could fix it. She could fix this poor child from the fate she’d been subscribed._  
_“What the fuck are you looking at, Freak?” The girl spat harshly, feeling the dark eyes on her skin. When her eyes met the girl’s, the fear was gone. They were cold, calculating. She might as well been looking in a mirror. The poor creature was lashing out in its time of weakness, snapping at her offer for help. Joan’s hand pressed down against the fractured shoulder, reveling in the piercing scream that followed._

“Open your eyes,” Joan commanded. Franky obeyed and maintained her eye contact with the stoic doctor. “It hurts, doesn't it? Heartbreak?” Joan Ferguson had known about the sapphic psychologist for many years as she paraded the halls of her hospital like she had earned the privilege to be called Doctor. She’d interfered with Joan’s practice, stolen her best nurses, and now here she was trying to destroy all the hard work she had invested into the girl.  
“Please, make it stop…” Franky felt the hair on the back of her neck stand as Joan’s hands caressed the delicate skin once more. “Just do it,” Franky begged through her tears unabashedly. “Just do it, I deserve it!” Franky would have done anything to escape the pain in her heart. Even if it meant poking the black widow in front of her. Joan leaned down until her black eyes were even with Franky’s.

  
“They all leave you, don’t they? Except for who?” She smiled at the look of desperation on the woman’s face. She caressed her cheek with her thumb, wiping away a stray tear. The right thing to do was put her out of her anguish, give her real pain to distract from the storm inside of her. She’d been begging for release she stroked the back of her hand over Franky’s cheek. The brunette turned and presented it towards her like a gift to a king. “Except for who?” Joan asked again. The doctor raised her hand, ready to strike at the right command.

“For you,” she whispered, and then Joan put her out of her misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of child abuse, self-harm

Bridget had done her best to stay away from the isolation ward. She knew in her heart a clean break was what was best for Franky. Bridget just had to cope with the fact that it was killing her inside to not be able to see the woman. Imogen was right, it was countertransference. Bridget had remembered reading about it for the first time in her Counseling theories course at uni. ‘That will never be me’ she said as she shook her head after reading how many of the original psycho-therapists ended up marrying their patients. She felt utterly disgusted.

  
It didn’t feel the same way now. Now it hurt. She felt heartache, but what’s worse was she felt so...ashamed. Bridget wanted to bury her head in the sand. Franky had trusted her to help. Franky had uncharacteristically asked for help, and Bridget had promised her. How many times had promises been broken to Franky? How had such disappointment hardened the little girls heart from trusting anyone? How long had this trauma sat to fester within her until she was transformed into a wild thing?

Franky had been in isolation for the better part of a week when she came up nearing the end of an afternoon staff meeting.  
  
“Bridget, I think Francesca Doyle needs to be moved from isolation to the psychiatric ward,” Will Jackson stated in front of the smattering of counselors and various floor employees gathered around the conference table.  
  
“What on earth for?” Bridget had begun to gather her things, but immediately stopped.  
  
“Her emotional state has deteriorated significantly since she was moved there. She hasn’t slept in days. She’s refusing meals. I’m afraid for her health and safety at this point. Nurse Conway found her self-harming last night. Nothing serious, just some scratching. But I still think the behavior needs to be addressed before it worsens.” Bridget paused for a moment, letting Will’s words sink in slowly. Every part of her wanted to volunteer to see her, treat her, make sure she was okay. As she wrestled with her decision, she noticed Vera eyeing her silently from her place at the table, judging her. Bridget allowed her brain to rule over her heart.  
  
“Let’s get her into a session with you as soon as possible. We can try to see what’s going on and go from there.” Give her a wide breadth, Bridget reminded herself. It’s for the best. “Let me know how it goes, please?” She smiled towards her best psychologist. Will cared so deeply for his patients. If anyone else would be able to reach the young woman, it was Will.

 

Less than a half hour later Bridget’s radio was blaring for officer’s to Will’s office, and then ten minutes after that Will was at her door looking defeated.  
  
“What’s happened?” Bridget looked up from her laptop taking in his disheveled state. She’d never seen him look this way before, almost as if he was in a state of shock.  
  
“It’s Franky. She’s trashed my office, Bridget… threw my books, broke a clock... “  
  
“Jesus, Will! Are you alright?” She shot up from her seated position quickly.  
  
“I’m fine… She’s asking for you. She said she won’t talk to anyone else. I think you should do it, Bridget. She’s not well.” Bridget nodded softly. She cancelled her remaining appointments with her secretary before making her way towards the elevator. She found that if she kept her hands clenched, they didn’t shake as much. She waited impatiently for the numbers to tick lower when she heard her name being called from behind her.  
  
“Bridget, wait!” Vera approached her, out of breath.  
  
“What is it, Vera?” Bridget turned towards her, forgetting the elevator behind her.  
  
“I-I don’t think you should go see her,” Vera stuttered nervously.  
  
“Excuse me?” Bridget’s eyebrows creased with confusion.  
  
“Bridget… I’m saying this to you as a friend, be careful. I saw the way you were with her. It’s obvious there’s something there. I’d be blind not to see it.” Vera’s voice came out softly and with genuine concern. “Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for,” she warned the psychiatrist. The elevator dinged behind Bridget, and she was drawn like a moth to a flame.  
  
“Thank you, Vera,” Bridget smiled to her as the doors closed.

 

Bridget approached the room quietly, peeking through the small window and looking in at the woman who was demanding to see her. Initially, Bridget thought she had the wrong room by the state of the patient. Franky looked worse for wear. Her messy hair hung loosely down her back and shoulders; it could use a wash. Her gown was worn and dirty. Franky never looked unkempt. Bridget wondered when the last time they had managed to escort her to a shower and give her a clean hospital gown. It was no wonder she appeared hollow behind those green eyes. Her hope was gone, all that was left in its wake was anger. She unlocked the door and entered slowly.  
  
“Is that what I have to resort to in order to talk to you?” Franky asked with her back against the wall, her legs bent at the knee.  
  
“No one asked you to destroy Will’s office, Franky.” Bridget kept her distance, standing near the open doorway.  
  
“It worked didn’t it? Action seems to be the only thing that gets your attention. Not like I can pick up the phone.” Franky normally would have smirked at this time, but she didn’t have the energy. All she needed was one last chance to see her, to plead her case, to get herself out of there. Sleep. She needed to sleep soon or she was really going to lose it. Ferguson had visited each night she’d been locked away, always at a different time. Franky tried her best to remain awake and alert for protection.  
  
“I’m worried about you, Franky.” Bridget stated as she watched the brunette idly scratch the underside of her forearm, lost in thought. The skin appeared angry and red. Feeling the gaze, Franky quickly crosses her arms across her chest. “I care about your well being.” Franky scoffed at her words.  
  
“Bullshit.” Her leg shook, an attempt to keep her awake and alert despite her obvious exhaustion. How long had it been since she slept? She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes trying to rub the weariness away. “You asked me for honesty, which I gave you. You pushed and pushed for me to open up, and now that I have you don’t know what the fuck to do with me!” Franky’s exhausted eyes glazed over with tears.

Perhaps she was in a much worse state that Bridget had originally thought.

“Franky… that’s not it,” Bridget shook her head.  
  
“Then why? Because clearly I did something, and I keep trying to figure out what it was, and I’ve got nothing,” Her voice cracked with emotion as she firmly shut her eyes to prevent any tears from falling. She took a moment to collect herself, releasing several shaky breaths through her nose. “You’re just like everyone else,” she whispered her eyes finally back open and on Bridget’s.  
  
“Franky this has nothing to do with you or anything you’ve done. It’s me. This is my fault.” Bridget took a few steps closer. “I’ve crossed a line with you Franky, a line I swore to myself I never would. I referred you because my feelings for you are preventing me from treating you properly. I’ve been selfish, and it’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who can be objective and unbiased. I’m afraid I can’t be that for you.” Bridget’s words floated into the open air between them. Franky’s eyes seemed to have a small flicker flame that they once held. Her lips turned upwards despite her exhausted state.  
  
“I can live with that,” the brunette said coyly.  
  
“I can’t. I’ve been so selfish.” Franky shook her head dismissing the thought.  
  
“You did what you thought was right. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“I couldn’t bear to look you in the eye and say that I had failed you. You were right to call me a coward,” Bridget cast her eyes down to her heels, hanging her head in shame.  
  
“Failed me? Are you joking? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, Gidge.” Franky rolled her eyes and motioned for Bridget to sit down on the open space of her bed. After a moment of hesitation, the psychiatrist joined her and sat on the edge. “I’m really sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you and everyone else. I’ve been a arse,” Franky admitted.  
  
“Why don’t we say… ornery,” Bridget smiled. Franky shook her head but her lips curled up into a smile. There she was. She was still there after all, hiding. The two sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Franky’s smile slowly fading as her thoughts returned to her consciousness.  
  
“Would you believe me if I told you there was a reason?” Franky bit her lip, hesitating. Bridget nodded and waited for her to continue, giving her all the time she needed. “It’s her,” her small voice was barely audible. “It’s her… she’s the one who drugged me, and I think she hurt Jodie too,” Franky confessed as her her voice shook.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Ferguson.”  
  
“I’m not following you, Franky,” Bridget shook her head, trying to understand where the brunette was going.  
  
“She’s the one who did this to me.” Franky presented the underside of her forearms for Bridget to finally see up close. She’d been scratching at the skin, but underneath the angry red skin were dozens of scars, they continued up her biceps and disappeared under the hospital gown. Bridget had already seen the small circles lining her flanks. Her skin was like a roadmap of her past. Bridget reached her hands out to touch the delicate skin, caressing it tenderly. “You’ve got to believe me,” Franky begged, knowing it was her last hope. Her vision was beginning to blur.  
  
“I do. I promise you.”  
  
“She makes us call her Auntie Joan,” she whispered.  
  
It took quite some time, and even a few pauses to gather herself while reliving a lifetime of pain that Joan Ferguson had caused her and her family. At first, Joan had been a savior after treating the young woman in the emergency room at the beginning of her residency. She couldn’t bare to see the poor girl wasting away at the hands of her degenerate and now pregnant mother. So she’d rescued them both and brought them to her home where she could keep a watchful eye over them. The promise to Franky’s mother was simple; As long as you keep your hands off her, you can stay. Franky was safe.  
  
At first it had been a dream come true. Joan gave Franky everything her mother hadn’t been able to: new clothes, a fridge full of food, and a room of her very own. No longer did she have to sleep in the living room of their pit of an apartment. Everything was perfect. It was as if all her troubles had been solved.  
  
It had been nearly a three years of heaven before she had touched Franky for the first time. The brunette was able to recall the details with ease. Joan’s whispered words still lingered in her ear.

_“I make you happy, don’t I?_ _Living her with me in my home, wearing my clothes, eating my food…” The guilt welled up inside of her and Franky nodded. “Then you’d want to make me happy too, right Francesca?” Franky nodded again. She’d do anything to stay away from her mother and her rage. “Without me you’d be worthless, pointless, nothing…” She’d heard the snap of the glove_.

Franky’s eyes were closed as tears escaped down her flushed cheeks. Bridget placed a comforting hand on Franky’s knee, unable to resist.  
“You didn’t deserve any of this.” Franky quickly blinked back the rest of her tears, determined to finish.  
“My mom didn’t believe me. Or maybe she did, but either way she didn’t say anything. She had the cushy life she’d always wanted before I came along and fucked everything up. She wasn’t going to let me do it again. I stayed for Tess.”  
  
“You wanted to protect your sister.”  
  
“I figured as long as she had me, she’d leave her alone… she’d be safe.”  
  
“What happened to your mum?”  
  
“Ferguson killed her. Said she’d do the same to me if I didn’t leave. So now she’s got Tess. I was trying to get custody when…” Franky trailed off, it was now or never. Hadn’t the blonde believed her each time she’d asked? She’d been so patient even when Franky had done nothing but cause chaos. “She framed me.”  
  
“You didn’t hurt that man.” Bridget translated expertly. Franky nodded.  
  
“She told me if I took the blame, she’d let me have Tess. She’d keep her safe until I was free. She made me do the drugs so I’d get diminished capacity and I could do my time in treatment instead of general.”  
  
“Where she could keep an eye on you.” Franky nodded solemnly. She’d never remembered speaking so much at one time. It was exhausting.  
  
“She’s been visiting you… did she hurt you?” The teary eyed girl nodded once more, finally reaching her breaking point.  
  
“I just can’t get her out of my head,” she cried hysterically. Instinct kicked in, and Bridget pulled Franky’s shaking form into her arms and ran her palm over her back soothingly.  
  
“Breathe with me,” Bridget whispered to her, pulling in a deep breath through her nose. Franky did as instructed, and she sank into the syncopated rhythm. “That’s it, baby,” Bridget praised, the pet name flying off her tongue. Eventually, the tears dried up, and all that was left was the sound of two even breaths in unison. Franky lifted her head to stare into soft blue eyes.  
  
“Would you do this for any of the women?” Franky asked again with a small smile playing on the corners of her lips. Her eyes may have been red and swollen, but she was still beautiful.  
  
“No, just for you,” Bridget confessed, Franky had sunk into the mattress, her body heavy with exhaustion. “I promise you, you will get out of here, Franky. You’ll see your sister again. But right now, you need to rest. I’ll be right here. You’re safe, I promise you’re safe.” Bridget’s hand brushed Franky’s messy hair back from her face as she settled against the pillow. The gentle caress of the blonde’s hands caused her to drift away, finally able to rest peacefully.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Self harm, psychological torture, physical abuse, character death (don't panic) 
> 
> This is a short one, but it is pretty darn heavy. 
> 
> Read before you start hating me, please!

Franky had been sleeping peacefully in Bridget’s lap for a couple hours before Vera had come looking for her. The nurse looked at her exactly as Bridget had imagined in her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Franky had been wronged and she was innocent. It was up to Bridget to make sure that happened before it was too late.  
  
“Bridget...what do you think you’re doing?” Vera whispered as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. “I’m going to have to report you.”  
  
“Vera, please, listen to me. Franky’s innocent, she’s been abused by a member of the staff. That’s why her mental state has been unstable.” Bridget didn’t move from her spot, her hand brushing the stray hairs away from Franky’s face.  
  
“Was it Fletch?” Vera couldn’t stop her thoughts from trailing back to see Franky’s pleading eyes as Matt nearly suffocated her. Franky had seemed to be in bad shape when Vera bandaged her arm several days ago, and from the looks of her now, it had only gotten worse.  
  
“No, it’s a doctor. I need to get the police here to take her statement, but I don’t want to leave her alone,” The psychiatrist’s voice cracked with emotion. Vera could see the genuine fear lining her light blue eyes. Bridget was amazing at her job. Vera had watched so many women come through her program and make it to the other side.  
“I’ll stay with her,” Vera offered. She don’t know what made her volunteer: the look on Bridget’s face or the woman that was curled in her arms. “You go call them, I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Vera  
  
“Vera…” Bridget couldn’t believe what the nurse was offering after all of the regulations she’d broken.  
  
“Go now before I change my mind,” Vera smiled awkwardly. Bridget shifted her body slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping brunette. Too far gone in sleep to care, Franky settled back against the pillow, her chest rising and falling evenly.  
  
“Thank you, Vera.” Bridget smiled softly before exiting the small cell-like room. 

Joan had just arrived at the hospital for her evening shift. She’d just checked on Vera’s ailing mother for what would be the last time. Knowing she’d have to deliver the unpleasant news herself, Joan tracked Vera down in the isolation wing where she was on suicide watch for an inmate.  
  
Joan hadn’t expected to see the petit nurse seated outside in front of the girl’s room.  
  
“Joan, what are you doing down here?”  
  
“I could ask you the very same question.”  
  
“Dr. Westfall is calling in a report to the police. Franky told her that she’d been abused by a doctor on staff.”  
  
“Is that right?”  
  
“Explains her state.”  
  
“She was never stable to begin with, from what I saw of her. A lifelong user and delinquent, if you ask me.”  
  
“I guess we’ll see what happens. What are you you really doing down here?”  
  
“Vera...I have bad news I’m afraid…” Joan had removed a glove in order to grasp Vera’s small hand. She delivered the news of her mother’s sudden but unexpected death. Joan had perfected the story on the drive over. By the time I’d arrived she was already gone. Her heart just stopped. Vera took the news as Joan had expected. She did her best to show her emotional support. Joan quite liked Vera. She’d proven intelligent and competent in both their professional and personal lives. Tess had grown attached to her. Joan knew if there was any hope of winning Tess over, it was through the kind nurse. They’d spent many nights together watching movies while the doctor was working. She’d win the girl over eventually, as soon as her older sister was out of the picture permanently.  
  
“Vera, you go home. I’ll find someone to cover the remainder of your shift.”  
  
“I can’t, I promised Bridget I’d-“ Joan cut her sentence off with a brief but passionate kiss. They’d never so much as shook hands at work, let alone embraced. The feeling caused Vera’s aching heart to surge upwards in her chest.  
  
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you,” Joan whispered her promise into Vera’s ear. “I love you, Vera.”  
  
“I love you too, Joan.” The women embraced once more, before Vera went home to grieve the loss of her mother. Joan entered the cell without a sound and sat on the edge of the small bed.  
  
“Tsk, tsk, tsk Francesca. I thought you knew better than to go running that mouth of yours.” Joan dragged her gloved thumb over Franky’s bottom lip, shaking her from unconsciousness. Franky began to thrash, at first trying to scratch and claw at her, but Ferguson was much too strong. She pressed Franky’s tired body into the mattress below, draining the air from her lungs. Her limbs wore out until they fell heavily onto the sheets below. She was trapped in her nightmare, but this time it was real. Joan was determined to end it all. She was so close to the perfect life she’d imagined.  
  
“It’s too bad you’ve turned out to be such a ungrateful little girl. Not like your sister.” Franky opened her mouth to scream, only for it to be covered by the black gloved hand. “No, she has manners with her Auntie Joan. You know what happens when you don’t show your appreciation, don’t you Francesca?” Joan forcibly turned Franky’s head to look at the bedside table where Joan had set a scalpel. Franky’s heart was still leaping in her chest and she went still. “Although, there’s something about the two of you. It’s only a matter of time before she starts to mouth off.” When the doctor was certain the confined woman would not scream, she released her hand allowing her to suck air into her screaming lungs.  
  
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her,” Franky growled towards her.  
  
“Or what will you do? Try to escape like that degenerate mother of yours? Surely you remember how well they worked out for her. It would be simple really, with your track record. Like they say, what’s wrong with the bitch, is what’s wrong with the pup.”  
  
Without another word, Franky spat with everything she had into the woman’s face until the saliva landed on that hardened cheek. The act enraged the woman as she used her waiting handkerchief to wipe away the evidence.  
  
“It’s over, Francesca. It’s time to give up and accept your fate. As always, I will give you a choice in how we proceed.”  
  
“How generous of you.” Joan slapped her cheek at the snide remark.  
  
“It’s you or her, Franky. Either you end it all and save yourself from this misery, or you live to see your sister be buried alongside the rest of your family.” Joan’s hand wrapped around Franky’s neck without the barrier of the latex between them. She’d wanted to feel every part of the brunette’s struggle. Unable to pull air into her lungs, Franky’s fingers clawed at the sleeves of her coat. She attempted to pull the woman way as her face turned red and her legs kicked beneath them. Her desperate eyes begged Joan wordlessly. She stopped struggling against the hands on her neck, and instead reached as far as she could towards the nightstand, towards the sharp silver tool. Joan smiled as she loosened her firm hold. Franky immediately gasped to fill her aching lungs and wrap her fingers the shining blade. She sat up slowly rolling it in her fingers. It was lighter than she expected it to be. How could something so delicate manage to cause so much hurt?  
  
“I don’t know how you’ve been able to look at yourself for this long, Francesca. Scars all over, not even tattoos can hide them. You think she’d really want you as...mutilated as you are?” She cupped Franky’s cheek gently, smoothing her hair back. The patient lifted her head up towards the touch, silently begging for it to continue. Joan smiled down to her, tracing her thumb under the darkened circles of her eyes.  
  
“Tell me what to,” Franky whispered, green eyes desperate for relief. “Just make it stop.”  
  
“End it all, Francesca. End it all, and I promise it will stop. Be brave for once in your pathetic life.” Joan nearly cooed to the entranced woman. Franky nodded before turning the scalpel over in her hand and baring her wrist. “Make me proud, Francesca,” Joan delicately placed a kiss against Franky’s forehead before exiting the cell and latching the door. She did not need to watch through the window to know what was going on. Joan increased her pace, knowing she’d need to deposit another sum of money into Officer Fletcher’s account for his assistance with the camera’s recent influx of errors. Her long game was finally approaching its conclusion, and Joan Ferguson could have sworn she felt happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Please hang in there, I promise!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of self harm, physical and psychological torture.

Bridget wasn’t entirely sure what made her believe that Franky was telling the truth. Was it the look of sheer desperation in her weary eyes? Or was it the evidence of turmoil etched into her skin from a lifetime of abuse? Fear, perhaps? Regardless of what it was, the psychiatrist knew that Franky's mental state had deteriorated significantly when placed in isolation. Bridget feared that all the progress she had originally made with the slender brunette was gone.  
  
She’d made the executive decision to bring Franky back as soon as she’d finally gotten off the phone with the police department. Fuck her reputation, the patient’s well being was more important. She’d been on hold for the special victims unit for what seemed lIke centuries. They didn’t appear to be in any sort of rush to help her. In reality, it had only been just under an hour when she’d finally convinced them they needed to come out. She took a moment to gather herself before she boarded the elevator back down to where Vera was waiting for her, watching guard over the slumbering brunette. Except it wasn’t Vera sitting in the hallway, instead it was Lee Radcliffe in her place.  
  
“Where’s Vera?”  
  
“Emergency, her mother,” Lee chewed loudly on a stick of gum as she inspected her cuticles. She’d been bored out of her mind after Ferguson instructed her to cover for Vera. The blonde was absolutely certain the two were fucking. Just the thought of it sent chills down her spine. She never wanted to be on Joan Ferguson’s bad side. She’d accepted her instructions and sat at her post.  
  
As Bridget unlocked the door, she gasped loudly, her hand thrown over her heart. Franky’s bed remained empty the only trace of her left were bloodied white sheets twisted over the small twin bed. Bridget’s eyes scanned the room quickly until they settled on the shaking form in the corner. With her legs pulled to her chest, Franky rocked herself slowly, shaking as she hid behind her hands and long locks of hair.  
  
Her arms had been destroyed beyond anything she’d done in the past. Blood on the mattress, blood dotting the laminate floors. How had she managed to cut so deeply? Lee stood when she heard the loud gasp, immediately noticing the scene in front of her. She flew towards the elevators to get help, leaving Bridget alone.  
  
“Franky…” she’d breathed out barely above a whisper. The brunette jumped in fear, head shooting up to see who had spoken, and Bridget’s remaining breath was knocked from her lungs.  
  
Her left eye was red and irritated as she scratched away at the delicate skin underneath. The playful patient she once knew was not the one in front of her. In one of her trembling hands, she held a scalpel. Bridget’s heart sank into her sour stomach.  
  
"Franky, I’m going to come closer now,” Bridget stated delicately before taking a few slow steps forward towards the shaking woman. When she got closer is when she heard the muttered words.  
  
“I’m worthless, I’m pointless, I’m nothing.” The voice was cold and empty as she spoke under her breath. Bridget sank to her knees in front of the woman, holding her palms up to show she was not a threat.  
  
“Please let me see your arms?” She whispered her voice even and kind. Franky looked up to her, recognizing the soothing tone instantly. She followed directions and extended her arms towards her. Cuts lined the sensitive skin. While most of the cuts were shallow, a few deep puncture wounds needed attention immediately. Her forearms were so bloodied she was unable to determine the true extent of her injuries.  
  
“Franky we need to get you to medical.” She took off her scarf and immediately began wrapping it around her wrists to try and clot the bleeding as much as she could. The brunette’s face was pale.  
  
“No!” Franky screamed, pulling her arms back to her chest, protectively. Her head shook back and forth rapidly. Her left eye was swollen, and she was struggling to keep it open.  
  


“I have to do this.” Her voice shook. Her eyes were not her own. They were those of a terrorized doe fleeing from the sound of a gun. Bridget had to do something to bring her back, to pull her from her state of shock. She collapsed against Franky, unafraid of the weapon still clutched in her shaking hand.  
  


“Stay with me,” Bridget begged as tears burned at the corner of her eyes. “Please, stay with me, Baby,” she sobbed, unable to control her emotions any longer. She had been lying to herself from the beginning. The moment she’d seen her bright wild smile, she’d fallen hopelessly. She’d broken every rule, and she didn’t even care.  
  
The metal instrument fell with a cold clang to the ground. Franky clutched Bridget’s hand in hers instead.  
  


Radcliffe arrived back with help and they set to work to care for the bleeding woman. Bridget waited impatiently at Franky’s side as they worked quickly. Judging by the crimson soaked gown Franky was wearing, she’d lost quite a bit. She’d need a transfusion to bring her back completely. Once she was sedated and out of the woods, Nurse Conway stitched a few of the deeper cuts before wrapping both of Franky’s arms in layers of white bandages. When she’d finished, she crossed them over the blanket covering Franky’s stomach. She’d been cleaned up from before, and changed into a clean gown. Bridget did her best to avert her eyes while they cut her out of the first blood-soaked gown. She’d need a proper wash eventually, but she looked peaceful as her chest rose and fell with her even breath. Exhausted, Bridget let her head rest against the edge of Franky’s bed for just a moment while she rested her eyes…

“Bridget? What’s happened?” The blonde was ripped from her sleep. Her head rose from it’s comfortable position against the mattress, and she straightened her torse from her spot in her chair. She looked disheveled, that much she knew. Slowly she blinked her eyes to focus on Vera’s concerned face.  
  
“What’s happened with you? Lee mentioned something about your mother, is she…” Bridget stood, closing the distance between the two of them.  
  
“She’s gone, Bridget,” Vera nodded solemnly. She was heartbroken for the loss of her mother, but watching her disintegrate into illness made Vera realize that it wasn’t a life worth living any longer. She was at peace, finally. Bridget’s hand found hers and delivered a reassuring squeeze.  
  
“Vera, you should be home,” the psychiatrist stated softly.  
  
“I will be fine, it was coming. What happened to Franky?” Vera glanced down taking in the state of the patient. She’d heard from an orderly what a blood bath the isolation room was left in after Franky was carted to emergency. Vera’s mind raced trying to comprehend the events that had taken place.  
  
“I found her with a scalpel. She’d tried to slit her wrists, and her eye… I think she was trying to scratch it out like-”  
  
“Jodie Spiteri,” Vera finished her sentence for her. The blonde nodded in conformation, her eyes glancing back to a slumbering Franky.  
  
“She… she showed me. She’s got scars everywhere.”  
  
“I saw. When I was bandaging her hand,” Vera nodded remembering the raised skin cascading in strikes up her arms until they disappeared under her sleeves. She took a step closer, her eyes scanning over the machines to make sure the patient was in good shape. Blood pressure was steady, oxygen was good. By the looks of the IV in her arm, she’d already received a fair amount of blood to replenish her depleted supply. Bridget stepped beside her, close enough to lean to whisper in her ear, fearful of being overheard.  
  
“It’s Ferguson.”  
  
“No.” Vera shook her head, immediately dismissing the thought. “That’s impossible.”  
  
“Who came to isolation and found you?” Bridget’s eyebrows creased. She begged the nurse would not only follow but accept her train of thought. “She had the access. She’s always had access. The medication, the sleep study, and now this. You didn’t see her face like I did, Vera. She was genuinely terrified of her. She’s been torturing her since she was a kid. She framed her for assaulting that man.” Bridget prayed for strength as she pressed further.  
  
“She wouldn’t. What would she stand to gain from this?” Vera’s heart felt like it was being pulled by thin string in a thousand different directions, threatening to explode with even the slightest tug. Joan was capable of incredible things, but how could she be capable of such darkness? And for what purpose?  
  
“I don’t know, but she did it!” Bridget’s voice came louder, stirring Franky from her deep sleep. She blinked upwards to the women talking. Vera nearly gasped at the piercing red of her injured eye. Feeling the penetrating stare, Franky attempted to cover her face from view. She was muttering her usual refrain under her breath, this time loud enough for Vera to hear from her standing position nearby.  
  
“I’m worthless, I’m pointless, I’m nothing,” she repeated like a broken record. Each time she heard the words muttered by the brunette, Bridget’s heart broke just a little more. She was determined to prove the words wrong.  
  
“Franky, it’s okay,” Bridget reassured her, doing her best to coax her trembling hands back down. “You’re safe, I’ve got you. I promise.” Eventually, she settled back down to sleep, her hand held reassuringly within Bridget’s. It was miraculous how easily the blonde could soothe her. It was like they’d been doing their act for years. Bridget’s free hand traced delicate lines with her fingertips over the uncovered skin of her bicep. Bridget had discovered that the gentle scratch of her short nails could instantly cause the brunette’s breath to sink into even and rhythmic pulls.

Vera stood frozen as the words played over and over again in her mind. She’d heard them before, in the same desperate tone too. She felt a wave of ice shoot through her already aching heart.

_“I’m worthless, I’m pointless, I’m nothing!” Vera heard from the doorway of Tess’ bedroom while she worked on homework._  
_“Hey now, that’s no way to talk to yourself,” Vera leaned against the door jam. Tess, turned back from her desk, eyes full of sadness much too intense for her twelve years of life. “What’s wrong?”_  
_“Nothing, I’m fine.” Tess quickly attempted to dry the few tears that had fallen from her face without drawing attention from Vera. The nurse ignored them, but entered further into the room. The young girl’s room was normally much too tidy for the average pre-teen. Today, however, the books lining her shelves had been thrown around the room, lying open across the floor. She’d even torn some of the pages out of an old nursery rhyme book. The more and more Vera looked, it looked like she’d just missed a major meltdown. It was evident the young girl was struggling, and Vera wanted nothing more than to help._  
_“Tess, you can talk to me you know. About anything,” Vera reminded in a gentle tone. She reached out to touch the girl’s shoulder, reassuringly. While she wasn’t a cold child, Tess was definitely not very affectionate in terms of physical touch. In all their time together, Vera had never seen the two hug or embrace. Occasionally Joan would allow her hand to pat Tess’s shoulder, but that was the extent of their interactions._  
_“She’s gone, my sister,” Tess sniffled, unable to keep her tears from falling any longer. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” the young girl dissolved into sobs. Propelled by instinct, Vera pulled the girl into her arms, holding her close. Initially, Tess’ body was tense at the new touch, but slowly she found herself melting into the embrace. Vera was kind and warm. Vera was everything that Auntie Joan was not._  
_“I’m so sorry, Tess. I know you must have loved her very much.”_  
_“Now I’m all alone,” she cried out, shoulders heaving. Vera allowed her palm to run the length of the girl’s spine. She was tall for her age, and so skinny. It was a wonder Vera couldn’t feel every vertebrae in her back._  
_“Hey, what about me?” Vera asked. “No matter what happens, you’ll always have me, Tess.”_  
_“Promise?” Tess whispered through her tears. Vera cupped her face in both hands, and then she wiped her tears away with her thumbs._  
_“I promise,” Vera smiled. Tess allowed herself to fall back into her arms, engulfed in the warm embrace._

Finally stirred from her memories, Vera’s eyes fell back on Bridget and Franky. Bridget’s fingertips were now tracing over the same tattoo she’d tried to get a closer look at. The beautiful scroll was now unobstructed as her eyes came to fall over it’s loops and swirls. Vera gasped, covering her mouth. The pieces finally formed a full picture.

Tess, the ink read.

“It’s her…” the nurse spoke, finally starting to believe the sight in front of her eyes. Vera sprang into action. “Get the police here for a statement,” Vera demanded.  
  
“She’s not a viable witness in this state. No judge or jury would even consider it. If she can’t testify, we have nothing.” Bridget said hopelessly, shaking her head.  
  
“Not quite.” Vera’s lips turned upwards in a weak attempt at a smile given the circumstances. “We’ve got Tess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is actually super sweet! Hope you can handle it after all the trauma we've been through...

Vera was breaking all sorts of protocol and laws. Not only was she kidnapping, she was also sneaking the stolen girl into the locked psychiatric ward of her hospital. Her brain should have been screaming at her to stop. She silently prayed that Bridget knew what she was doing. Vera hadn’t been able to deny the similarities that the sisters possessed; perfect olive-skin and large green eyes. She also couldn’t help but feel responsible for Franky’s current state. If she had woken up sooner, maybe she would have seen the warning signs. She hoped it wasn’t too late.  
  
Bridget was waiting for them outside of the room, she looked weary, but still held her normal poise. She must have heard the familiar entrance beep to the ward because her eyes looked up from their place on the floor. She stood, and immediately was struck by the appearance of the young girl in front of her. If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn she had been transported back in time. Standing beside Vera was a younger Franky. She’d possessed the same long, raven colored hair, tamed back in a long braid that brushed over her shoulder. She was tall for her age, and slender. She was even scratching her arm nervously as they approached. Bridget hoped that she hadn’t experienced the same treatment of her older sister.  
  
“Bridget this is Tess, Tess this is Bridget. She’d like to talk to you about your sister.” Vera patted the girl’s shoulder reassuringly.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, Tess.” Bridget smiled and extended her hand. Truth be told, she did it so the young girl would stop itching her skin. She extended her arm tentatively, allowing Bridget to give her a couple pats between both of her hands.  
  
“Auntie Joan said she died.” Tess’ voice came out broken, already certain her sister had met the same fate as her parents. Bridget cringed hearing her refer to the psychopath was Auntie Joan.  
  
“I promise you, she is alive, but Tess, I’m going to warn you… Franky has been under a lot of stress, and she’s not doing too well.” She had to be honest with the young child. Who knows if their reunion would even be successful. It was a last ditch effort. She’d had to prepare the girl just in case she was unable to save her older sister.  
  
“Is she going to be okay?” Tess whispered. She’d remembered observing Franky’s often aloof behavior when she was younger. Joan had always put it off on drug usage, but she knew better now. Joan was hurting her, and badly. How long had Franky hid the abuse to protect her? Even in summer she was always in long sleeves, regardless of the heat. At night, Tess would often crawl into her older sister’s bed when she’d heard her trapped in a nightmare. Tess knew how to soothe her back to a peaceful state. Franky had done everything she could to protect her, even at her own expense. Joan had taken her parents, but she was determined not to let her take the only family she had left.  
  
“She will recover. She has wounds on her arms that are covered, but her left eye is badly injured, and you’ll be able to see it. It’s a very difficult time for her.” Bridget’s guilt was consuming her. If only she had released her back to their unit sooner. Joan wouldn’t dare show her face back in her ward after what had happened to Jodie. She was much too smart.  
  
“She did it to herself, didn’t she?” Tess didn’t have to wait for Bridget’s nod. She already knew what her sister’s tattoos hid. She’d even found herself starting to unconsciously pick at the skin on her forearms although she wasn’t exactly sure why. Even her thoughts seemed to be acting of their own accord recently. She caught herself repeating over in her head, ‘I’m worthless, I’m pointless, I’m nothing.’ Tess knew what she had to do. “I need to see her, please. I can help.” The air of uncertainty surrounding the young girl had vanished, replaced by one of confidence. She stood in front of her sister’s room, eyeing the badge on Bridget’s hip. Impatiently she held her hand out, willing the Doctor to unlock it and let her in. A small smile made its way onto Bridget’s face; she was most definitely Franky’s sister. If their looks weren’t enough, their nearly identical behavior was. There was fire in their souls. Bridget swiped the card, and opened the door before she entered first.  
  
Franky was asleep on her side, her back pressed securely against the wall. It was the only way she felt protected enough to sleep, her vision unobstructed. She’d been sleeping continuously, locked in her catatonic state. She hadn’t attempted to communicate with anyone, including Bridget since she woke in the hospital bed. She’d cried desperately after she had a moment of time to put the puzzle pieces together. She’d failed...again, and now Tess’s life was at stake. Bridget could see the terror still locked in her emerald spheres, but also the look of failure. Joan had made her do this, it was obvious. Bridget couldn’t even bare to think about what would have happened had she not found her when she did. Would Franky even be alive? The last brutal attack by her abuser may have been what finally caused her to dissociate completely. The psychiatrist thought she was genuinely lost somewhere inside herself, unable to resurface. Franky Doyle had finally broke. The blonde prayed to any god that would listen that this was not the case. If they were ever going to take down the Freak, they needed Franky to tell her story. This was their last chance to save her.  
  
Before Bridget could turn and instruct the small girl on how to proceed, she had already approached the bed without an ounce of fear in her heart. She kneeled at the side of the bed, resting her chin over her crossed arms on the mattress. She’d seen Franky look worse for wear, but this was new. She looked like her soul was no longer inside of her body. She was just a battered shell thrown onto the shore by the harsh and relentless waves.  
  
“Franks?” the girl’s voice whispered ever so softly, Bridget wouldn’t have known she had spoken without seeing her lips move. “Franks, it’s me,” she spoke a little louder. At first, Franky eyes appeared to wildly flit about the room before settling on those of her sister. Her clouded vision finally focused on the exact same hue in front of her as if she’d heard the voice of a ghost. Tess didn’t panic when she noticed the red tinge to the white of her left eye. Instead she smiled brightly and wrinkled her nose playfully at her. Tess seemed so grown up as she reached her hand out to smooth Franky’s hair. She was the nurturing mother Franky never had. “Your hair’s long again,” Tess noted like it was the most casual thing in the world.

And then Franky smiled brighter than Bridget had even seen. She reached out slowly to cup her little sisters cheek in her palm. Tears welled in her eyes as she caressed the soft skin, finally believing the moment to be real and not a figment is her imagination. Tess crawled into the bed, and wrapped her arms around her crying sister. Bridget was convinced Franky had given up on ever seeing the girl again.  
  
“She told me you died.” Tess buried her face against the material covering Franky’s chest while Franky rubbed her back reassuringly through her tears.  
  
“Can’t get rid of me that easy, grommet.” her voice was scratchy, but nevertheless she had spoken. Bridget’s heart surged in her chest watching the beautiful exchange before her eyes. Franky pressed a kiss down to the crown of the girl’s head, keeping her cheek pressed there a moment longer, allowing herself a moment to remember everything about her. Tess’s face was always so expressive, Franky blamed herself for that. Her olive toned skin was dotted with freckles over her nose from being out in the sun. She’d gotten so much taller since she’d seen her last. How long ago was it? Two years? Her once plump face was slimming out as she aged. Franky pulled her in one more time, memorizing how she felt in her arms again.  
  
“I know what she did my dad and mum… and you. I know you didn’t hurt that guy. She has to pay, Franks. We can’t let her get away with this.” Bridget couldn’t have said it any better herself. Out of the mouths of babes. Franky’s body tensed slightly at her sister’s words.  
  
“Tess, I can’t,” Franky shook her head, shivering briefly at the thought of standing up and detailing the events in front of those dark, soulless eyes piercing daggers into her flesh. Feeling herself slipping back into her mind, she sat up and ran her hand over one of the bandages covering her arms. Tess looked down and stopped the motion entirely, locking their hands together instead.  
  
“Then let me do it,” she volunteered with ease.  
  
“No,” Franky vetoed her offer immediately after it had been spoken. She pulled her hands away from her sister.  
  
“I can do it. Let me help you for once, please. It’s my turn.” The tone of the young girls voice clued any listener in that she was no longer waiting for permission. Her mind was made up, and it likely had been long before she had been reunited with her sister. She looked to her sister with a seriousness over her delicate features.  
  
“When did you get so grown up, kid?” Franky smiled softly, pulling her back in her arms.  
  
“I still need you. And we need to take that...that Freak down. Please, Chess.” The nickname had taken a moment for Bridget to register as a moniker for Francesca. It had been all Tess was able to say when she was learning to talk. She’d reserved it for only the most dire of situations. Franky sighed heavily while Tess smiled, knowing she’d won victory.  
  
“Together?” Franky asked, Tess nodded. Without another word, Tess turned over in the bed, pulling Franky’s arm over her until she was nestled with her back against her older sisters chest. Tess knew it was the only way to ensure Franky would sleep properly. Truth be told, she’d missed the contact just as much. At peace, the older of the two settled in. Bridget felt as if she’d overstayed her welcome, intruding on the touching moment between the sisters. When she turned to leave silently, Franky’s voice broke the silence.  
“Gidget?” she whispered softly. Bridget turned around to see the happiness flecked in green. “Stay?” Bridget returned to her spot in the chair beside the two of them. Franky was unable to keep her eyes open any longer. After she delivered one last kiss to Tess’s head, she allowed her eyelids to flutter closed. Her sleep would be peaceful for once. Tess reached out and squeezed Bridget’s hand in her own.  
  
“What’s this for?” Bridget asked, perplexed. The girl kept her small hand locked in Bridget’s, unwilling to let it go.  
  
“You saved her.” Tess’s lids were heavy, her body growing more and more relax as she felt her sister’s even breath behind her. “Thank you,” she whispered before drifting off with her sister for the most restful sleep they’d had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has unfortunately been pretty hectic as of late. Thank you for your patience as I navigate the world of working full time while pursuing a graduate school full time as well.

When Franky woke again, the weight of Tess’s body pressed back against hers was gone along with her hopes. She sedation meds had really thrown her for a six. She wasn’t certain how many days had passed or how on earth she was still managing to pull air into her lungs. With her eyes closed, all she could see were flashes of her own warm blood coating her hands. In an effort to stop them from infiltrating further into her headspace, she opened her eyes. She cracked her good eye just a sliver, allowing the light to filter through her eyelashes and stop the nauseating images. Suddenly her breath was gone, as she blinked her eyes into focus.  
  
Bridget lay nestled beside her, her head resting atop her hands as she slept with her lips parted slightly. It was the first opportunity Franky had to truly look at her without fear of being caught. Her makeup had long since been wiped away from tears. She looked exhausted, and Franky felt like she was most likely the reason why. Even with the slight tinge of darkness under her eyes, she was flawless. Her lips remained the perfect shade of pink even after the lipstick had been chewed away from nerves as she waited at Franky’s bedside. Bridget must have felt the penetrating stare, because she stirred and her eyes fluttered back to life. The piercing blue still could cause Franky’s brain to pause and require a reboot momentarily.  
  
“Hey,” Franky whispered.  
  
“Hey there.” Bridget smiled for what was probably the first time in what felt like centuries. Franky opened her mouth to ask, but before she could even begin her sentence Bridget interrupted with her answer.  
  
“She’ll be back. She said to say, ‘I love you, you doofus.’” Bridget quoted the young girl’s words to her older sister. Franky’s sunken face broke into another wide grin that caused Bridget’s heart to stutter inside of her chest.  
  
“Thought I dreamed it,” Franky admitted looking down to her bandages arms, her hair falling in her face.  
  
“Don’t worry, it was real,” Bridget promised, gently coaxing her chin up in order to see those beautiful green eyes. The redness in her injured eye was fading. She still looked so weary, Bridget noted. Soon enough she’d be able to rest at ease, far away from this place and the prying eyes of Joan Ferguson.  
  
“Is this real too then?” Franky whispered. Bridget couldn’t help herself from tucking a stray lock of the brunette’s hair back behind her ear, desperate to touch her.  
  
“I hope so, or this whole me waking up in your bed thing might be awkward,” Bridget bit her lip playfully.  
  
“It’s not. It’s nice,” she confided. If Bridget looked with precision, she could see the slight curl of Franky’s lips towards the heavens. It was nowhere near as bright as the one she’d flashed at the sight of her sister. But at least it meant her spirits were still lifted. She wasn’t teetering on the edge of catatonia. She was still her.  
  
“Good. You were dreaming, it was the only way I could get you to settle down.” She hated seeing Franky’s face contort in pain because of the pictures playing under her eyelids. Bridget had been pulled towards her like a magnet.  
  
“Yeah,” Franky blushed. She’d never had to see what an absolute mess she looked like in the throws of a terror, but she knew from her sister and Bridget’s reactions that it wasn’t pretty. So rarely when she did manage to sleep did she wake without a tenseness in her muscles. It didn’t matter how many hours she’d slept, she never felt fully rested. Some days were better than others. If she’d kept busy it was easy to forget the stiffness settled in her bones. But sometimes her mind was so tormented that she couldn’t even string a full coherent sentence together. It was incredible what the human body could endure before it finally stopped trying. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. After everything that’s happened, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t.” Bridget did her best to reassure Franky.  
  
“Thanks, Doc.” the brunette teased.  
  
“We need to talk about that actually.” Franky’s eyebrows creased in confusion, fearing the worst. “If this,” Bridget used her hand to motion the space between them. “If this is going to be something, I can’t treat you anymore... I could lose my practice.”  
  
“Well, yeah, that’s kind of a given. It’s not like there aren’t a million other people out there I could see,” Franky accepted without so much as a second thought.  
  
“We shouldn’t even be doing this until you’re out of here for good.” Bridget had hidden Franky away in a private hallway without any foot traffic. She knew that they were safe, but it still caused a slight panic in her chest.  
  
“If I get out of here,” Franky corrected. She had snapped, almost. On the brink of complete breakdown, she had tried to take her own life. Anything to get the voice out from between her ears. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat.  
  
“Everything that you are experiencing? It is because of extreme psychological distress and trauma. Do not for a second think it has something to do with how strong you are. You’ve been doing everything you can to survive.” Bridget couldn’t begin to imagine the thoughts swirling around in Franky’s mind. “You’re going to be able to work through this.” Franky wasn’t sure what exactly she had done for Bridget to believe in her so strongly, but it was better than any drug in the world. “Tess and Vera can do this. They know her better than anyone,” Bridget reassured the brunette. After a brief moment of hesitation, the psychologist moved forward until she was resting against Franky’s arm, wrapped in her embrace. “Is this okay?” She checked in. Franky nodded, searching for her voice that was locked in her throat the moment Bridget curled up in her arms.  
  
“It’s perfect,” she finally spoke, leaning her head down to press her forehead against the blonde’s. Bridget couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever performed such an innocent act. Franky’s hand reached up to touch over the blonde’s bottom lip. She traced the pad of her digit over the delicate pink skin, eliciting a soft exhale of air that could have almost passed for a moan if Franky didn’t know any better. Franky bit down on her lip to hide her smile. She couldn’t recall a single time in her life she felt this feeling in her stomach. She felt almost queasy, but in a good way. She liked it...but what the hell was it exactly?  
  
“Franky…” Bridget’s soft voice broke their silence. She intended for it to be a warning, but the tone of her voice sounded anything but authoritative. She opened her mouth to try again, but her words were immediately silenced by Franky’s lips over hers. The initial kiss was short, just full lips against full lips. The brunette had pulled away to check in with Bridget whose mind was swirling as she tried again to find the words. Unable to speak, she leaned forward and recaptured Franky’s lips between her own. She wrapped her arms around Franky’s neck as they slowly explored each other. They stayed that way, pausing to hold each other and catch their breaths, but their lips always found their way back to one another until both were too exhausted to keep their eyes open any longer.


	17. HIATUS

Hello all. I have placed this work on hiatus for now. I have recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and this work is just too heavy for me to complete right now. Receiving this diagnosis is one of the most difficult things I have ever been through in my life. I'm seeking the treatment I need in order to take care of myself at this time. I hope you can understand, and will be patient as I work to be able to manage. My hope is to continue some lighter pieces, but it just depends on how things are going, so please be patient if you don't see me posting any other works at this time. Sometimes it just feels like I am absolutely alone in this. I felt like you as readers deserve an explanation and an apology. Thank you for reading these silly little stories and giving me something to focus on. I hope is to get back to okay to be able to share more with you someday. 

Thank you


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